


The Office

by Samayel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Humor, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Divorce, Romance, Same-Sex Marriage, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 06:16:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2057001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samayel/pseuds/Samayel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's boring routine and early mid life crisis are suddenly interrupted by a single pub night with his old rival from school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: Warning! I make no claim to any property of J.K. Rowling's, and am in no way profiting by this. I do offer her my sincerest thanks for allowing us this garden of the mind in which we play. Further Warning! This story...and likely any I ever write…are dominated by gay themes and characters. That's how it is, if this in any way makes you uncomfortable...do not read further.

Author’s Note: This fic is dedicated to Laura, with my thanks for the many kind reviews. Enjoy!

 

The Office…by Samayel

 

Harry James Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World, The Chosen One, The Boy Who Lived, grew up. That alone was something of a miracle, considering how close he’d come to death in just a few short years between his eleventh and eighteenth birthdays. Nonetheless, he’d survived the most terrible war the wizarding world had ever seen, and he’d put Voldemort down once and for all. And then he grew up.

It was surprising, how quickly those years had passed. It was also surprising how much he missed those days at Hogwarts. By comparison, the last fifteen years of his life had been spectacularly dull. He’d become an Auror after he’d finished his NEWT examinations, which had been delayed by the closing of Hogwarts during the half year of the Great War. It had been great at first. Dark wizards on the run every which way, mayhem in the streets, desperate battles while the Muggle world slept unawares. Great fun. Action, adventure, danger and excitement, just like in school. Despite the terrible losses, Harry had taken a fierce, proud joy in fighting for a safer world for himself and others. And then they won.

The last Dark wizards were captured, peace spread like wildfire, and Harry had been at a loss for what to do. So he got married. The wizarding world was giddy with relief over the outcome of the war, and in that celebratory atmosphere, Harry had proposed to Ginny Weasley. She accepted enthusiastically, and then Harry was a husband. Not long after that, he became a father…twice. He had a job he loved, a beautiful wife, and two children that were adored by all. Perfect. For about four years. Then his entire life fell apart in front of him.

They really had been too young. Married at nineteen, and a father at twenty and twenty-two. The Auror service barely needed combat trained personnel anymore, and Harry had been shunted to the areas that most needed help. Routine investigations for minor wizarding crimes and the occasional cover-up from Muggle authorities. He was good at it, but it was dull as death, if not more so. He’d nearly died once during the war, hanging on the brink of life, and he was quite certain that it had been a great deal more interesting than paperwork. He came home each night to crying infants and a wife who resented his career while she was trapped at home with children that needed feeding and changing and constant observation. Each night was a routine of passing children back and forth, fixing meals for small ones and grown ups alike, changing diapers by the handful and rocking colicky babies to sleep until the wee hours of the morning…only to rise again and do it the next day. 

When Ginny threw him out, it had almost been a relief. Whatever had been bright and cheery and good between them had died slowly, smothered by small resentments and angry words. He still saw his children when he could, and she didn’t begrudge him that precious time with Jamie or Lily, especially since he had never once shirked his responsibilities and had always made certain that their needs were well cared for. Ginny was happier when she didn’t have to actually live with Harry, and without the expectations of a husband on him, they actually got along fairly well.

The years had flown by since then, and Harry did his job well, because he had always thought that it was what he ought to do, but there was no joy in his life, beyond the tiny snatched moments of happiness when he saw his children. Just an office where piles of paperwork waited to be dealt with, and an apartment where beer bottles and dirty clothes and dishes piled up and waited to be dealt with. The kids were both at Hogwarts now, and he wouldn’t see them until the hols came around again. This was the hardest time of the year. Months to go before he’d see his only legacy. He could pat himself on the back and say he saved the world…and maybe call that a legacy, but to Harry’s mind, the only real accomplishment in his life had been making two wonderful children, and not seeing them was torture.

He hadn’t really dated much since then. There had been a few very nice women, but Harry supposed that, in his heart of hearts, he wasn’t really comfortable sharing himself and his private life with any of them. He’d let each relationship wither on the vine, rather than face the daunting prospect of intimacy he didn’t really want or feel comfortable with. He was still a fit looking bloke, even past thirty, with hair that finally behaved reasonably well, glasses that were more stylish than his old ones from school, and he’d even grown more comfortable in a suit and work robes than his gawky, teenaged self had ever been. It wasn’t that he couldn’t attract someone, it was just more effort than the eventual trouble would be worth. And that was that. 

Fifteen years since he‘d saved the world. He didn’t think of himself as an alcoholic, since he didn’t drink heavily in general, and almost nothing when the kids were around. He could go for days without a drop, and he almost never touched hard liquor. When he was drinking, he never caused trouble or made a nuisance of himself. The very idea of behaving terribly in public mortified him far too much for that. If he could be said to drink too much, it only happened at times like this, when the children were away at school, and the pathetic emptiness and futility of his life and work wore on him most.

He even had a favorite pub, where he was well known and liked, and could enjoy a couple of pints after work, or a little more when the occasion demanded it. It was the kind of quiet place where darts were thrown, pints were sipped, and sometimes old songs were sung badly, but with enthusiasm. His old chums from school didn’t usually go to Muggle bars, but since they knew Harry liked the place, they’d come along now and again. 

He’d been attracted to the place since he first saw the ancient sign hanging in front. A black dog and white stag, on the run and looking sharp. It had reminded him of his father and Sirius, and so The Hound and Hind had become his home away from home, and a place to escape his troubles for a few hours at a time.

It was on days like this, pounding his way through case file after case file, filling out meaningless reports in triplicate, that Harry most looked forward to a nice pint or two before bed.

“Oy! Harry, love! You daydreaming again?” Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin pulled Harry from his musings and back to reality. He’d been holding the same pen and staring at paper for who knew how long.

Tonks made a great section chief, and her fondness for Harry took the edge off of the slow grind of days. She forgave his occasional lapses at the office, since he really was a better than average Auror. He’d been sensational as a combat mage, but as pencil pushers went, he held his own fairly well, but wasn’t quite distinguished. This had a lot to do with why he hadn’t been promoted. He’d even refused one, fearing the increase in paperwork and the death of field work. Harry shook his head and rubbed his eyes.

“No. Maybe. Well, bugger all, yeah…pretty much. Can’t get the kids off my mind again. You know how I hate it when they’re away, Tonksy.”

Tonks smiled, and her hair flashed from neon pink to neon green while she waggled her eyebrows. “Cheer up, Harry…you know they love you. I heard Jamie made the Quidditch team for Gryffindor. Not as fast as you did, but I figured you’d be proud to hear it. If you feel that off, go on home early. There’s only an hour left in the day, and it’s not like we’re chasing down killers. Whatever you’re on, it’ll wait for another day if you like. Right?”

Harry sighed expansively. “Aww, thanks. I don’t mind staying, but I don’t mind going either. I’m not getting that much done today anyway. I think I’ll write letters to owl the kids after I get home. Sure you’ll be alright with me off?”

Tonks chuckled. “We’ll send up a signal if we need the world saved, hero. I think we can handle this afternoon on our own. I’m off to meet Kingsley and compare notes. Have yourself a nice early weekend, Harry, you’ve more than earned it.”

Harry tidied his desk and pulled on his trench coat and hat, then made his way back to the lobby floor of the Ministry Of Magic. He got a lot of waves hello from the staff along the way, just as he always did. In truth, it was a good enough place to work, and he’d have been happy if it had any real meaning to it, but the only thing ’exciting’ at the Ministry the last few years had been the investigations surrounding a few gifted pranksters, and somehow it just didn’t capture Harry’s attention the way battling killers and their henchmen had.

Fall had only just begun, and London was pretty fair to look at…when the rain quit and one could see anything at all. This was such a day, and Harry tried to savor the walk to The Hound and Hind, staring at the people he saw along the way. Shoppers and business people and passers-by on the way to take the tube. A vast mill of people with lives and livelihoods, most of them probably happier than he was most of the time. It was a shame that he could think that, but at least he had a nice quiet life and a few good friends, and a pub to call his own.

The Hound and Hind was largely empty, since it wasn’t quite the usual after-business hours, and Harry decided to mentally compose his letters for Jamie and Lily while he nipped at his pint. ’Oud Tom, the barman, gave a toothy grin when Harry walked in and headed for a seat at the bar.

“’Ullo there, lad. Off work early, is it? I’ll ’ave yer pint up in a sec.”

Harry took a seat at the bar, oblivious to the few other patrons, including the man in the seat beside the one he was taking now. His eyes were fixed firmly on the lovely foam building on the pint of Guinness that was being drawn for him by ’Oud Tom’s capable hands.

“Aye. That’s pretty much it, Tom. Easy day at the office, a couple of nice pints, and home early for the night I think.”

“Oh, bloody hell! Potter?!”

The voice sent Harry’s nerves jangling. An aristocratic drawl, tinged heavily with naked annoyance. He closed his eyes for a moment, then turned slowly to the man beside him. He should have been more alert when someone in this pub actually had a martini glass in front of them. Martinis in The Hound and Hind were as rare as sun when you wanted it and rain when you needed it.

Draco Malfoy was the owner of the half-empty martini between them, and Harry’s eyes went flat with irritation. Malfoy muttered something under his breath, and Harry caught enough to know that Malfoy was cursing about having been a fool to go to a Muggle bar anyway.

“I cannot believe I nipped out early for a drink, somewhere quiet looking, and you bumbled in here, Potter. Don’t you have some lawbreakers to hunt down, or is business that slow these days?”

“I’m here off and on most weeks, Malfoy. This is my watering hole. If you think you’re slumming, piss off and go find another oasis, one where buzzards and jackals are welcomed.”

“Oooo, sharp tongue, Potter. I’m finishing my martini and then I’m out of here. What…what is that swill in that glass you’re…you’re…My God!? You drink that?”

Harry finished a long pull at his Guinness, licking the mustache of foam off of his lip with a smile.

“It’s called Guinness, you poncy bastard, and don’t blaspheme against it. It’s beer. Good beer. It’ll put hair on your chest, which in your case is a miracle worthy of canonizing a beer for sainthood.”

Malfoy was a funny story, if you liked lousy punch lines. He’d made it through the war in a safe house with Snape, made it through the trials at the Ministry after the war was over, finally entered into an arranged marriage with Pansy Parkinson as the new Lord of Malfoy Manor, and then lost almost everything in the ugly divorce a year later. He still had the estate, and enough wealth to maintain it, but his employment in the Ministry’s Foreign Relations Offices had been made necessary to enjoy at least a little of the lifestyle he once knew. Pansy, the lawyers, and the trust fund for his young daughter had devoured the rest of the famous Malfoy fortune. Now the annoying prat was a glorified paper pusher just like Harry. They didn’t meet often, but when they did, the barbs of their childhood rivalry always reemerged. Draco’s near total inability to grow facial hair had always been a favorite target of Harry’s jibes, especially since, personally, he hated having to shave everyday, and his own beard was dark enough to show fast if he didn’t make it home before dark.

“Find some new material, Potter. You’ve been singing that tune too long for me to care. Although, since it annoys you, this bar suddenly seems oh-so comfortable. I may have to take up drinking here regularly. As for your precious ‘beer’, I find it hard to respect a beverage you nearly have to chew.”

“That’s because you’re a heathen and a Philistine, Malfoy. Guinness! It’s not just a beverage, it’s a meal! Foreign Office doing well for you? Everyone expected great things from you. After all, you blend in well with the foreign. You’re a bit weird to most of us, hard to get along with, and generally a bit unpleasant in a snide, condescending sort of way.”

“Never thought you for a racist, Potter. Then again, you are an Au-I mean a cop. The tinier the mind, the more the need to break everything down to bite-size little pieces you can understand. And it’s going fine. I just got back from France and Belgium. The wine’s over-rated. Ever since they grafted in those California vines it just hasn’t been the same. Not that your palate would know the difference between waste water and brandy…and small wonder, poisoning it with that drek!”

‘Oud Tom moved back to their end of the bar, scowling at the tone of the new patron.

“’E givin’ ya trouble, ‘Arry? No room for it ‘ere, fancy! Don’t like it? Move on!”

Draco sneered at Harry, hating that he was outnumbered in opinion and couldn’t draw wands in the Muggle world. A nice, fat hex would have been fun about now, but with Muggles about, he had to stay off the radar for tonight. Harry took another gulp of his beer and shrugged to Tom.

“Not really, mate. No trouble, just an old school rival. We always talk like this. He can have a round on me if he wants.”

Tom moved off, and Draco was staring at him with a look of complete confusion. He spoke warily.

“Decent of you, Potter. What brought on this sudden largesse?”

“Frankly, arguing with you is the most interesting thing I’ve done all day. I suppose that’s worth a martini.”

“Hmmph. I suppose. I could do with one more before I head on out. I left early today after a bloody awful debriefing session. Endless prating questions about minutia and trade stipulations. Another hour of that and I’d have been in Azkaban for hexing my section head’s gob shut. And a martini is still a martini, no matter where you find it. Thus, here we are.”

Harry snorted with amusement. “Meetings and paperwork. That’s what we’ve been reduced to. Do you ever miss the days when life and death were on the line?”

Draco looked at Harry with complete incredulity. “My gods, you’re incurably Gryffindor. I hated every fucking minute of that shite with the white-hot passion of supernova. Don’t tell me you pine away for the ’good old days’ of near death experiences and all that. I mean, I always thought you were daft, but I didn’t think you were that daft!”

Harry snorted with frustration. “Come on! You can’t seriously tell me that you find shuffling papers and what not more interesting than Hogwarts and the war. I’m not saying it was easy, just that it sure wasn’t dull. We didn’t have time to worry over minutia when we were scrambling for our lives. Every breath we took was a miracle of its own, because we were lucky to be able to take it! Sure it was ugly…but we were really, really alive. Tell me you don’t miss that!”

Draco stared piercingly at him while Harry sipped his beer again, then downed the rest of his martini in a single gulp.

“Not…one…fucking…bit. Maybe it was a grand adventure for you, but it was sheer fucking hell for me. Has your life since then been so shitty that you look back at all that with envy? It hasn’t been all tea and crumpets for me either, but those times gave me a nice benchmark for ‘fucking horrible’, and everything since then has felt like a fucking cakewalk. How bad can life be for ‘The Boy Who Just Wouldn’t Snuff It’, that you can ask me with a straight face if I miss those days?”

Harry blinked, floored by Draco’s answer. He set his beer down and fumbled with his napkin a moment.

“I miss my kids. They’re in school now. I won’t see their faces ‘til the hols come ‘round again. You’re right, I guess. It was awful…then…but…it wasn’t anything a few spells and a bit of nerve couldn’t solve. I can’t do a fucking thing about this. Can’t Petrify it, can’t Obliviate it, can’t Stun it. It just is. If I miss anything…I guess it’s having problems I could solve, even if they nearly killed me. What does a fellow do about things like this?”

Draco hadn’t the faintest idea what to say to that. There was a painful and pregnant silence while he stared at the bar and took a sip from the new martini Potter had just bought him. His voice was hushed and faintly distracted when he spoke up.

“I haven’t seen my daughter in four years. Pansy sends her to a small private academy in Switzerland, and then drags her off on holiday journeys around the world. I don’t even think she likes having Cissy…she just likes knowing that she’s far away from me.”

Draco’s divorce had been nearly as high profile as Harry’s, with Pansy splashed across the front pages of The Prophet every other day for weeks. At least Ginny had been amicable about their split. The things Pansy had said to the press were only barely fit for print. Other than what the papers had reported then, Harry hadn’t known anything about Draco’s home life. It was sobering to think of Draco Malfoy, Prat Extraordinaire, as a fellow divorcee who missed his child desperately.

“Fuck all. Sorry about that, Malfoy. If you quote me on it in public, I’ll lie like a dog, but for once, I know exactly how you feel. I wouldn’t wish that…”

“…On your worst enemy? Hah. Neither would I. That, my dear Mr. Potter, is why the martini was invented. The olive was thrown in later to distract people from the hidden magnificence that is gin and vermouth. As long as we’re breaking confidences, whatever happened between you and the Weaselette? You two always looked like a model couple. Match made in the stars and all that. If you don’t mind my asking, of course.”

The realization that he didn’t really mind telling it to Draco Malfoy was surprising, but to be honest, it was just good to talk about it for once. After all, Ron was still a good mate and all, but what do you tell a man about his baby sister? Harry savored his Guinness and gave a rueful smirk.

“There isn’t that much to tell. Got married too young, had kids before we were ready, and didn’t really know each other that well. She hated me working as an Auror and leaving her alone with the kids half the day and some nights, back when there were still a few real jobs to do. By the time I knew what was wrong, it was too late to fix it. She’s good enough about letting me see Jamie and Lily, and it isn’t like I’m not still fond of her, but we’re better off this way. I just hate the months when they’re at Hogwarts and I have to wait for the holidays to see them again. What about you and Pansy?”

Draco snorted and gave a withering glance at nothing in particular, gulping his martini before touching that topic.

“You got off light! We were betrothed before we were old enough to know what the word meant. Would’ve been a great deal for her…if the Dark Lord hadn’t reared his ugly head and ruined our social standing. As it was, she was magically bound to celibacy until we were married and had a child. I’m fairly sure she was resentful as hell once we were married, and like a good little Slytherin girl she planned every step. Once she’d secured the terms of our marriage contract and provided a child, she ’sowed her wild oats’ with joyous abandon. Two months after Cissy was born she was jumping on every dick that wasn’t mine, but I was too blind to see it until after the fact. By the time she served me papers, she’d already prepped her case for the settlement months in advance. She played the ’He’s as evil as his father once was…he has the Mark…save me!’ card and won hands down. I’m lucky to still have the Manor and a few Galleons left to rub together. If her lawyer had been just a little better, I’m sure she’d have custody of some of my internal organs.”

“Jaysus, Malfoy. I’d no idea it was that bad. I mean, you can’t trust the papers, but it sounds like what they printed would have been easier to go through than that. Oy! Tom? I need another pint…and stand this man another round on me.”

“I’ll take that martini. I find it disturbing enough that we both named our children for our parents. Funny. I’ve never really talked about Pansy or Cissy with anyone much. Hadn’t really occurred to me that you might be pleasant to be around. You’re a bit of alright, Potter, when it comes right down to it. Just…don’t plan on quoting me on that, understood? Wouldn’t do to let a fine, old rivalry wither on the vine, as it were. Cheers.”

“Slainte! And you’re welcome.”

And so it went. Harry hadn’t any intention of staying past his second pint. He also hadn’t any intention of singing ’The Broad Majestic Shannon’…badly, or ’Wild Rover’, or any one of half a dozen other pub crawl classics that were occasionally butchered at The Hound and Hind. He sang those, and more surprisingly, so did Malfoy, albeit only the choruses and those parts that were easy to guess at or mumble through. As it turned out, with a sufficient number of drinks, any song sounded good to the singer, even if he didn’t really remember the words…or the tune…or even a key. That didn’t stop either of them.

Like any proper pub night, it led inevitably to stumbling out the door into the night, uncertain of what to do with the rest of the evening.

“S’ bollocks! I c’n App-app…prate home, Potty!”

“Shhh! You’re bloody pissed! Y-you couldn’ Apparate from…from here to the other side a the street w’out leavin’ behind your head!”

“Deter…deterrent…defoliant…dis…distraction. No…thass not it. Wass it again? Depilatory…dependency…des…destitution? Bugger all! ‘Ow’s a bloke get a cab to Wiltshire this late?”

“You’re daft, Malfoy! A cab? From London to sodding Wiltshire? You’d be home in time to…to turn round an’ show up for work next week. Be better off on th’ Knight Bus!”

Draco Malfoy raised his head imperiously, then staggered a bit when the shift of position spoiled his balance.

“No Malfoy has ev’r, ev’r, EV’R…lowered…themselves t’ crude con…confer…conveyance! I’d sooner splinch!”

Harry clapped a hand onto Malfoy’s shoulder and tripped his Portkey for home, ignoring the affronted look he got when Draco realized what had just happened. Luckily, the disorientation took the edge off of Draco’s outrage, but that was only because two brains under the influence of alcohol were poorly suited for Portkey travel. They hit the floor of Harry’s apartment almost as one, and the last thing Harry could remember was the vague look of irritation on Draco‘s face as he passed out just a foot away.

\------------------------------------------------------------

Sunlight. Very bright, skull-stabbing, eye-assaulting sunlight. Pain. Not the rather annoying, ’give me two aspirin’ kind of pain, but rather the ’how long do I have to live’ kind of pain. Harry tried to move his arm to shade his eyes, but found that it was paralyzed. Panic struck a second later, and he flicked a bitter eye open, only to realize that he wasn’t paralyzed, just hampered by the man who was curled against him, sleeping on top of his arm.

The blond man. The Draco Malfoy blond man. Fully clothed, thank all the gods, but still curled in Harry’s arm, or rather on Harry’s arm, and sleeping peacefully enough considering that they were on the floor of Harry’s living room.

“Malfoy. Wake up. Gerroff!”

It came out more of a muted croak than Harry had meant, and Malfoy’s only acknowledgement was to roll closer and flop an arm over Harry’s chest. Draco’s face was now about an inch from Harry’s, and the man was mumbling in his sleep.

“F-five minutes. Five more, love. Thas all.”

This was not the lazy Saturday morning Harry had envisioned before leaving the office. His arm had lost all feeling, his head felt like a grenade had gone off in his skull, and his stomach was more than a little upset as well. He remembered being at a pub with Malfoy…but hadn’t any idea why the bastard was here…or why they were both on the floor in their clothes. And being cuddled by a barely conscious Draco Malfoy was NOT comforting in the slightest.

“Malfoy. I’m counting to five, and then I’m shoving your arse off of me! One. Two. Thr-mmph!”

Harry’s count was interrupted by the shift of Malfoy’s head and a mouth that suddenly covered his own. Given that Malfoy was scarcely conscious, and that his eyes were closed, it was a fairly adept kiss, and Harry was paralyzed by stark and absolute horror and surprise while his upper and lower lips were gently teased and sucked.

Then Malfoy’s chin brushed against stubble, and bloodshot gray eyes snapped open like shutters.

There was a moment of dizzying silence while they stared at each other, breath stopped in their lungs, eyes locked on each other as the reality of the situation broke free of their confusion and swamped them.

Slowly, and with an admirable degree of calm, Draco cleared his throat and moved away, blushing in a way that stripped a decade off of his appearance.

“Well. Oops. Martinis, right? Too many martinis. Didn’t happen. No one saw it. Heh. Could’ve happened to anyone. Right? Now where the bloody, buggery hell am I? And why are you even here? What in the blazes am I doing in last night’s clothes on the floor of…of…Sweet Merlin! Do you live in this dump, Potter?”

Harry growled. “Just my luck…I get the hangover, and you’re chatty Mr. Kisses first thing in the morning after a bender. Yes I live here, and you don’t! I don’t remember how you got here, so hush up until I get some coffee started. My head is killing me.”

“And your décor is killing me! It looks like someone spliced the Gryffindor commons into a refuse bin. Where’s the loo? I should be afraid to ask, given the state of the rest of the place, but I have to spell my face off and scrub the memory of you off of it.”

Harry rolled to his feet and pointed at the door down the hall, then limped toward the kitchen.

‘I know he drank more than I did. And it was gin, too. How the hell is he so cheery? Not fair. Not bloody fair. God, this is embarrassing. Just be nice long enough to make sure he’ll keep this little story to himself, then boot his ass to the curb. Coffee. Coffee now.’ 

The sound of water running from the bathroom made Harry’s bladder tense while he let the pot brew. The articles from Draco’s divorce came back to him as he tapped his foot in the kitchen, waiting for enough to drip for at least small cup. Pansy had said a lot of terrible things about Draco, and though Harry had taken none of it seriously then, the accusations about Draco being a poofter suddenly came back to him. That added a new niggling thread of panic to the ‘cat’s cradle’ of irritation that already engulfed him. Plus, the bastard was taking all day in that loo while Harry was almost dancing in kitchen.

The door to bathroom finally opened, and Malfoy sauntered out, looking relieved and calm, while Harry dashed passed him with a brusque and urgent ‘excuse me’ on the way in. Harry cursed his still half paralyzed arm while he fumbled with his fly, and unleashed a pent up river of recycled beer, rolling his eyes back with relief, then staggered to the cabinet above the sink and fumbled with the aspirin. Two pills and a shot of water later, he made his way out and back to the kitchen, just in time to see Draco fill his cup with all of the available coffee and promptly sip it. While Malfoy made a face at the stuff, Harry stifled complete outrage over the arrogant prig that had invaded his home.

“Ugh! Coffee is an acquired taste. I acquired it in Europe. Those people know coffee. This is not coffee. This is what happens when you allow people to attach the word coffee to any pathetic legume that crosses their path. Still, I shouldn’t be surprised. Given the décor and the Guinness, bad taste in coffee seems like a small crime by comparison.”

“Then give it here, Ferret-face! I’ve got a hangover from hell and I wanted coffee…that’s why I brewed it, and you’re drinking it all up while you bitch about it. Give it here!”

Draco handed the cup over with a look of distaste and a sneer that was familiar from many years of the same.

“Where did the fairly decent chap from last night go? You’re a right bastard in the morning, Potter. I’ve certainly tried to be reasonable about all of this, but you’re being a perfect arse about it all. It‘s not like anything inappropriate happened.”

“I am not! I-hey! What do you call inappropriate? I don’t know what you’re doing here, but you all but molested me in my sleep, then tried to snog me when I woke up and wanted you off of me! I’m the one being reasonable! You haven’t been hexed into bits yet, so stop complaining before my head explodes.”

Draco looked horrified and affronted. “I MOST CERTAINLY DID NOT MOLEST YOU! I’m quite sure you shoved that arm under me on purpose. And it was cold! You probably turned the heat off last night in some convoluted, passive/aggressive effort to get me close to you for who knows what unsavory purposes!”

Harry’s jaw dropped in shock. The unbelievable nerve of the git! To blame that on Harry through logic only a Slytherin or a savant could follow? Harry felt his fist balling up…and that was when the restored circulation finally reached his fingers.

“ARGH!!! Pins and needles!!! AH…ah…ah…my arm! My hand!!”

Harry capered about a little bit, shaking his free hand to work out the painfully returning sensation, and promptly spilled hot coffee onto his shirt, scalding himself and dropping the cup onto the bridge of his foot. It was while he balancing on one foot and pulling his soaked and hot shirt away from his skin that he slid on the spilled coffee and banged his head on the corner of the table. The last thing that echoed in his mind was a blurry image of Draco, looking down with a frown and a wand in his hand, muttering about ’hopeless Gryffindors’. His life flashed in front of his eyes. How sad that so little of it had been interesting, and doubly sad that it was probably ending in his kitchen, while an ex-Death Eater shook his head with disgust at the sorry spectacle of his demise. It could have been worse. It could have happened at the office.

\------------------------------------------------------------

Harry woke some time later. He was in his own bed, his clothes were clean, the headache, scalding, sore foot and tingling arm had been dealt with, and where there should have a large bump on his noggin there was absolutely nothing. Actually, he felt remarkable good. There was no trace of the hangover left in his system. Harry sat up on his cleanly made bed.

Wait.

His bed was never cleanly made. His bedroom was downright tidy, and he hadn’t cleaned that in more than a week either. His dirty clothes were cleaned, folded and neatly tucked into the proper drawers. There were no bottles or other rubbish about, and as he moved into the hall he could see that the entire apartment had received the same treatment. The only thing out of place in the kitchen was the plate of breakfast that had been left behind with a Warming Charm on it to keep it fresh. Tucked beneath the plate was a small envelope.

Harry sniffed the plate of breakfast. Not only was it probably not poisoned, it looked and smelled delicious. He opened the envelope with caution, checking first to ensure it wasn’t trapped, but cringed inwardly when he realized that, had anyone wanted him dead, he wouldn’t have lasted through this morning. Harry savored every bite of the breakfast while he scanned the letter.

‘Potter,

As much as it pains me to admit this, the portions of last night that weren’t drowned in a tide of gin and vermouth were actually quite nice. Thank you for a pleasant evening’s company.

That having been said, you are an embarrassment to yourself, and I contemplated putting you out of your own misery this morning. I simply cannot believe a lout like you saved the world.

You’re supposed to be a hero, for Merlin’s sake! Get a grip on yourself! I had my elves over to neaten the place up a bit while I cleaned you up and dealt with a rather ugly gash on your scalp.

Can’t have you dying on my watch, can I? I could just see the papers. Ex-Death Eater Butchers Boy Who Lived In Bizarre Household Coffee Killing. I’m sure they’d see through my cunning wiles and work out a way in which I was responsible for your untimely death by pratfall.

Either way, I won’t be traipsing back through to take care of you, so at least take some care of yourself! Do try not to let the rest of the world in on the pathetic display I’ve been subjected to.

Yours, Draco Malfoy

Draco’s glib, snide and yet distracted tone almost oozed off the page, and Harry huffed indignantly while he devoured the plate of food. It was actually better than any breakfast he’d had in his own home in years. Truth be told, Malfoy, prat that he was, had a point. Several of them, actually. Well, bugger it all, maybe the bastard was spot on on every count…except the décor. Harry rather liked Gryffindor colors. That was nothing but pure prejudice on Malfoy’s part.

For a prat, Malfoy had done right by Harry when he could have just skipped out or shipped Harry off to St. Mungo’s with a note taped to his chest saying ’Please Heal This Idiot’. Given their long rivalry, he would have expected anything but waking up cleaned and healed with breakfast waiting. Despite the sharp tongue, he knew he owed Draco a favor, or at least a proper thank you sometime soon. In the meantime, he had letters to write to his children.

Harry stood up from the table and went to drop the plate and cutlery off in the sink for later. He was two steps away when he looked back. For later. His entire life had become ‘for later’. If it hadn’t been for a timely intervention, he’d probably be waking up bleeding, scalded, hungry and miserable on a filthy kitchen floor. The sobering knowledge that, had anyone found him like that, they would have been horrified that a man who once saved the world appeared to care so little about his own life.

These last few years had been the hardest, with one and then both the children at Hogwarts more and more, but that was no excuse for what he’d let himself become. Odd that, of all the people in the world, Draco Malfoy would be the one to prod Harry into action.

Harry picked up the small sponge and rinsed the dish clean, the placed it in the washer along with the cutlery. He wiped up the few crumbs he’d left on table, and placed the sponge back where it had been resting. The kitchen looked as good as it had when he walked in, and it had only taken a minute. It was only a small start, but it was symbolic of something a little more significant; a shift of perspective, or a change of heart. Harry was finished with just getting by, and it was past time for that.

He wrote letters for his son and daughter, then a few more for Ron, Hermione and some other old friends. He didn’t mention this morning’s fiasco, but it dominated his mind all afternoon. He was still laboring over how to start a letter of thanks to Malfoy when a knock was heard at the door.

Finding Draco on his doorstep was still a surprise, even after the other surprises he’d had today.

“Well? Don’t be a complete sod. Invite me in.”

Harry’s sense of gratitude was already being tested, but he opened the door and shook his head a little.

“Come in, already. Didn’t think you’d need an engraved invitation after this morning. I was about to owl you a thank you. I suppose thanking you in person would do just as well.”

Malfoy smirked genially enough. “I suppose it would, but I didn’t really come for that. I just felt like making sure you came conscious all right. Wouldn’t want anyone calling me shoddy at spells for healing, would I?”

Harry nodded, then made for the pot of coffee in the kitchen. “I’ll assume you’ll pass on the coffee, but I could use some. Grab a seat in the kitchen. You can stand watch and make sure I don’t maim myself or burn the place down while pour a cuppa, okay?”

Malfoy’s snicker was as genuine as his smile. “Really, Harry. This morning was a bit of a farce, but upon reflection, it wasn’t so awful. If you’re feeling a bit less inclined to abuse a guest verbally, you could repay my small kindness by taking me to a decent dinner somewhere. Just nice to get out once and a while, and you really were good company last night. If you rule out this morning’s chaos, I had a wonderful time last night, and sad to say, my life has been sorely lacking in them for too long.”

There was a bluntness and honesty about Draco’s statement that tugged at Harry’s mind. It was a little nerve wracking to imagine an honest Draco Malfoy, and that was stretching his imagination a bit as it was. It struck Harry at that moment that, just perhaps, he wasn’t the only one looking at changing the way he’d been living his life.

“You know, that’s not a bad idea. Not at all. Malfoy…can I ask you something? No pretense, just a simple question?”

Draco took his seat and made himself comfortable, steepling his hands and resting his chin on the fingertips. “Be my guest.”

Harry leaned back against the counter and sipped his coffee. “Why? This morning…was very good of you. Why?”

Draco sniffed as if slightly affronted, then rolled his eyes. “I’d complain about being perceived as suspect in my intentions, but with the Mark on my arm that would be a bit passé. If you must know…I had some thoughts about that myself today. I wasn’t sure at first, but I think I’ve pinned it down. I haven’t spoken to anyone about Pansy or my daughter in the last decade. I’ve never sung songs in pubs. I’m 33 years old and I live alone with a pack of house-elves. I rarely go out for more than a quick drink, and, if you don’t count arguing with foreign dignitaries all week, there hasn’t been one noteworthy event in my life in more than ten years. For some reason, you’re surprisingly easy to talk to, and I never expected that. Last night…I discovered that I rather miss having a social life, and if you were decent enough to make me realize that, I can be decent enough to make sure you don’t snuff it over a cuppa in your own kitchen. I’m tired of not saying what I mean, so in the spirit of last night, I’m just saying what I think. It’s really up to you to let me know if it works for me or if I should discard the notion entirely.”

Harry kept a nervous grip on the cup in his hand, more than a little taken aback by that much honesty while he was sober.

“Malfoy…”

“Draco. Please.”

“Draco…there were things…Pansy said about you…in the papers back then.”

Draco bristled, obviously uncomfortable, but he answered just the same.

“I’m not here for that, if that’s what you’re wondering. This morning was an accident. Nothing more. What I’d like is some company…for dinner…unless that bothers you, in which case I’ll just be on my way.”

Harry couldn’t think of what to say. He let the silence hang too long. Draco pushed back the chair and stood up, suddenly pinched and terse.

“Right. I…I should just go. See you at the office sometime, Potter.”

Draco was halfway to the door before Harry had his wits back about him.

“Do you like Indian cuisine? I ought to grab my coat, but I know where you can get Chicken Vindaloo that will make it hard to believe you’re still in England.”

Draco paused by the door, looking back with a smirk that was patently covering relief.

“Now that sounds like something to look forward to. Lets, shall we?”

Harry grabbed his coat and opened the door, ushering the two of them into the street. There was nothing predictable about this day. Everything seemed upside down, and the calm, rote predictability of his office seemed far away. When he thought about it, that just seemed a little more like the way things ought to be.

Two gentlemen of distinction strolled through London, feet somewhat unsteadily placed upon the road to unknown adventure. There was no telling where it might take them…and they didn’t really care. At least it wasn’t the office.

FIN!


	2. Part 2

DISCLAIMER: Warning! I make no claim to any property of J.K. Rowling's, and am in no way profiting by this. I do offer her my sincerest thanks for allowing us this garden of the mind in which we play. Further Warning! This story...and likely any I ever write…are dominated by gay themes and characters. That's how it is, if this in any way makes you uncomfortable...do not read further.

Author’s Note: This chapter is dedicated to Mendacity, with my thanks for the many kind reviews. Enjoy!

 

The Office-part 2…by Samayel

 

Draco Malfoy returned to England by Portkey, having spent the past three weeks hashing out the details of internationally accepted wizarding law with the emissaries of a former Soviet bloc nation. The entire affair had been thoroughly exhausting, and in his own not-so-humble opinion, unnecessary. Although it had been many years since their relative independence had been achieved, there seemed to be a state of near constant chaos surrounding their national identity and borders.

‘These people! I swear! They change the name of their country every time a leader gets the sniffles. Some of the most historic events in the history of Europe took place in their backyards, but no!, they can’t just abide by the treaties they had last month, they need to draft new ones to reflect the change of philosophy that comes with changing their name! Unbelievable!’

He was only supposed to have been gone for a week. One bloody week! Instead, he was two weeks overdue getting home. Not that he didn’t have elves to look after the manor, but he had a life of his own and he meant to be living it. He hadn’t seen Harry in three weeks. Three!!!

That was the part that had worn on him the most. It wasn’t as if they were an ’item’, but over the past half year, Harry had become the centerpiece of Draco’s life away from home. It was always interesting, and always fun. Harry didn’t seem to mind that Draco was sometimes overly critical of…well…almost everything. Harry didn’t mind trying new things now and again. They’d been to theatres, Muggle and wizarding alike, dined at restaurants by the score, made jaunts to museums and places of uncommon natural beauty, and generally just made a good time of every opportunity they had. He’d even dragged Harry along to see ‘La Boheme’. Maybe opera wasn’t quite for Harry, but it had still been a good time.

Every weekend was something new, even if it was at home. Harry…HARRY!…had dined at Malfoy Manor several times. Draco had eventually sat down in Harry’s kitchen and enjoyed a baked pasta dish and garlic bread. It wasn’t the stuff of kings, but he’d had excellent company and a passable bottle of wine with the meal. All tolled, it had been a fine time, just like every time he’d spent with Harry. It wasn’t as if he lacked discretion. When it really counted, he knew when not to pick things apart…most of the time.

Sure, Harry argued and vented and occasionally called him out when Draco made comments that perhaps crossed the boundary of good taste, but the man was refreshingly honest and straightforward, and there was something wonderful about being able to speak directly and without pretense for once. Given Draco’s own rather sorry state the last decade or so, the difference that Harry had made was amazing, and Draco would surrender many things in pursuit of a work goal, but, by all the gods, he would not surrender the time he spent with Harry for anything. Last year he wouldn’t have given a damn if he spent three weeks in the middle of Outer Crapistan arguing with a handful of irate, middle-aged men about tiny differences of legal opinion, but now…now his time had a value again.

Harry had owled him back just a few days after Draco confirmed his upcoming departure time. It would be dinner at Harry’s tonight. Simple fare to one of Draco‘s rather advanced tastes, but made by Harry, who, when he tried, was actually a very good cook. The recipes and sides had grown more daring and non-traditional over these past six months, since Harry’s ego would never allow him to be scorned for a lack of ability in the kitchen. Draco had careful mingled his critiques with honest compliments, making sure that Harry still felt challenged, but was at least comforted in knowing that he wasn’t failing entirely. The results had been very pleasant indeed, allowing Draco to enjoy some dishes that he would have never imagined the scruffy lout preparing in a million years. The crisp asparagus sautéed in butter and bacon fat had been just divine.

He was a rather nice scruffy lout. Even with the god awful Guinness…and the hideous Gryffindor colors in his apartment. It was a shame the man wasn’t gay…or just open to experimentation. The subject had been hinted at more than a few times, with Draco quickly steering the conversation carefully toward safer waters as soon as Harry made it clear that he didn’t swing that way. Harry hadn’t shown the slightest interest in anything remotely like a physical relationship, and it rankled sometimes, but who could really complain about a thing like that when the man obviously enjoyed Draco’s company and put forth so much visible effort to build a new friendship with an old rival?

That didn’t change much for Draco, who had noticed the subtle improvements in his life in general as well as his outlook. He drank alone quite a bit less these days, as did Harry, and he left behind the manor and elves at least twice a week, and occasionally more, always with Harry. He corresponded with others a bit more, like Snape, who was in Barcelona, patronized by some Count or another, or Zabini, who was still a decent mate after all these years, and was living in Sicily now. What hadn’t changed was his sex life…or lack thereof.

If he had his way, Harry would never know how much he wanted the ridiculous pillock. Pansy hadn’t lied to the papers about that one thing. She knew him well, through school and after, and she knew his best kept secrets as no other ever had. Naturally, in true Slytherin fashion, she used those secrets against him when the time was right. Draco was at peace with his own preferences. After all, he was a grown man and a Malfoy…self-delusion was for the weak, and for those who lacked ambition. It was a fatal flaw, and one that, in the days of the Dark Lord, could easily have cost a person his life, and Draco had had just enough experience in life and loss to know better now.

Truthfully, he was bisexual, with a very modest preference for men. He found women attractive to be sure, but for some fickle reason, fate had conspired to make him feel a greater attraction and more of a sense of intimacy with other men. Not that he had vast experience, but he was self aware enough to know his own mind, and each of the few men he’d known had moved him in ways no woman ever had.

His reputation hadn’t needed any more tarnish after the war, and he’d only had a couple of discreet encounters with gentlemen overseas since the divorce, but he had no intention of subjecting himself to any further indignity in the papers here at home if he could help it. There were already enough rude gossip columns about his periodic appearances beside Harry in public. Harry had been so very good about it all. Being seen in public with Draco had dredged up the old rumors about Draco’s sexuality, which Harry knew full well were true. When the press made sly implications about their ‘friendship’, Draco had been mortified, but Harry had been completely calm, and had assured Draco in his own loutish way that he ‘couldn’t possibly give a flying fuck what the sorry bastards thought one way or the other’, and that had been that.

Silly as it sounded, Harry’s staunch refusal to worry over his reputation, or what Draco’s company could do to it, had been the highest praise Draco had ever received. In thirty-three years of life, with the exception of nine months on his mother’s part, not one person had ever inconvenienced themselves at their own cost for Draco’s sake without demanding something in return. It was a vaguely saddening thing to realize, but it was made less so by the knowledge that someone had finally done it.

If only the sweet bastard were queer.

Draco let a deep sigh go while he changed out of his work robes and into more casual garb. Harry’s place for supper, a bottle of Bordeaux from the Malfoy wine cellar (and two bottles of respectable table wine for after the meal), and an evening of decent company were finally to be his, and after three weeks of pure drivel, it was hard to be upset over a little thing like that.

\------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Harry put the finishing touches on the roast, basting some of the juices back over the meat, then sprinkled fresh spices onto the surface, before placing the dish back into the oven. He’d rather missed his meals with Draco these last few weeks. He didn’t envy Draco his job, even though he loathed his own. Last week he’d dodged yet another browbeating session with Scrimgeour, who still periodically tried to get Harry to make public appearances. Almost fifteen years, and the relentless bastard hadn’t given up on his dream of transforming Harry into the spokesperson for every decision the Ministry made. In truth, Harry couldn’t have cared less, and went to great lengths to avoid being dragged back into the spotlight again.

This didn’t completely erode the desire of certain members of the press to throw his name around when they needed a juicy rumor to beef up circulation. They’d certainly jumped on his being seen about town with Draco fast enough. Not that he minded, since bad press was old hat to Harry, but poor Draco had been mortified. It didn’t matter what the press said. Harry was perfectly secure in his manhood, and if Draco was gay then that was just fine. He was also a good friend and had proved it time and again the past few months. Just because Harry clearly preferred the company of women, that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a friend who was gay.

It was unnerving sometimes, but not unpleasant. Like the time that waiter blatantly flirted with Draco, while Harry was sitting right there across from them. Not that he was Draco’s boyfriend or anything like that, but what if he had been? It was just incredibly rude of someone to act that way, barging in on what was so clearly a quiet meal between friends!

Or the time Draco had gotten soaked in the rain after Apparating directly to Harry’s doorstep, unaware of the downpour in London that day. The man had been drenched in seconds before he could spell a shield up to block the rain, and either needed to spell himself clean, dry and styled again, or just use Harry’s shower and clothes for a bit. That had been the simplest answer, but it had led to one terribly ticklish moment. Harry had forgotten to leave a large bath towel for Draco, and when the man had finished with a brief, warm shower to beat the chill, he’d headed for Harry’s bedroom to change…wearing only a short towel.

As blokes went, given that Harry was no expert on the subject, Draco had been put together pretty well. Long, lean legs, strong hips, a narrow waist, and a back that was smooth as ivory, ending with broad shoulders and a slim and graceful neck. At thirty-three, Draco had a body most men a decade younger would envy. That was all it was. Envy. There was nothing wrong with looking at a guy who was in excellent shape and thinking, ’Hey, I wish I had a body like that.’ That was all it was. Nothing more. Since then, of course, Harry had opened the wards of his apartment to Draco, so that a good friend could come and go as he pleased.

Moments like that aside, the man was just good company, and a good friend. Harry had seen his daily life improve in so many little ways since they’d become friends, and his outlook on life was quite a bit brighter these days. They’d noticed in the office, and Ron and Hermione had noticed as well. Harry got out more, kept his house well, took much better care of himself, and even if he often missed his children and treasured their letters, he wasn’t wallowing in self pity all the time now. Yes, Draco had put a bit of the spring back in his step, and Harry was grateful for it. Ron and Hermione couldn’t figure it out, but if Harry was content with the situation, they were willing to follow his lead.

Ron and Hermione Weasley had surprised everyone by stopping at two children, since Weasleys were famous for, as Draco had put it, ‘spawning like blowflies on dead meat’. One very harsh look from Harry and that had been the last comment about the Weasleys. Well, almost. Draco could mock their hair and freckles and what not, but certain subjects were taboo, and the last few months had helped them sort out what was and was not appropriate to say in front of each other.

To be fair, in one of their brief spats, Harry had angrily brought up Lucius, and Draco had turned white, and then crimson, and then refused to speak in anything but monosyllables for the rest of the evening. Harry had swallowed his pride and apologized, and the matter had been brushed over, but he hadn’t forgotten that, in spite of everything, Draco had a love for his family that hadn’t been changed by their involvement with the Dark Lord. Insulting the man’s dead parents had been wrong no matter how you looked at it, and Harry may have sometimes been a fool, but he very rarely made the same mistake twice.

Draco’s letters from afar had been treats these last few weeks, and the increasingly irritable tone had been obvious as his departure continued to move farther and farther into the next month. As strange as it may have seemed, Draco’s last owl post had been the high point of Harry’s week, and he’d planned a decent meal for the two of them immediately after Draco’s return. 

Not that the past weeks had been without events for Harry. Jamie had broken both arms playing Quidditch two weeks ago, after attempting a modified Wronski feint while too low to the ground. If he’d been higher up, a hasty spell might have cushioned his fall, but the boy had struck the earth at full speed. Despite the flutter in his heart when he read the news from Hogwarts, and the accompanying pangs of sorrow about being so far away, Harry had smiled just a little at the realization that Jamie was very like his father, despite the limited time they were able to spend together. The damage had been healed quickly enough, since without a bumbling DADA professor to botch the healing, Jamie’s bones were quickly set and healed, and he was back in classes and on the pitch in a matter of hours. 

Lily was in her first year at Hogwarts, and had sent letter after letter, each full of stories about people and places that Harry had once known well. They were wonderful to hear from his daughter’s perspective, making memories suddenly come to life as never before. She’d nearly fainted when Nearly Headless Nick had tipped hat and head at her, and despite her apparent fondness for History, Professor Binns had sapped the interest from yet another student. Lily liked Herbology and Divinations, as well as Care of Magical Creatures, which was still taught by Hagrid, whom she adored.

Draco never seemed to mind when Harry spoke of his children, though Harry had often wondered if Draco found the subject painful, given the fact that he almost never saw his own daughter. Draco seemed to enjoy the stories from Hogwarts, and the brightness of his eyes while Harry recited passages from his children’s letters made it clear that he was genuinely interested. Perhaps, in the absence of his own child, Draco lived a bit vicariously through Harry’s stories, and if that gave Draco a bit of happiness, then so much the better.

A muffled crack marked arrival by Apparition, and Harry put his musings aside.

“The whole of Eastern Europe is a frustrating mess, I haven’t had a decent meal since I left, Pansy is still a fiendish, satanic bitch-cow and I pray for her maiming by some heretofore unknown disfiguring ailment, the only alcohol I could get was local swill, I’m still lagged over from traveling so far in one day, and…”

Harry looked up from the salad he was preparing when Draco paused. There was a bottle of wine in one hand and it looked both old and good, and there was a small cluster of roses and some more wine in the other hand. Harry raised an eyebrow and waited for the end of the rant.

“…and the best part of the last three weeks is getting to come home to this. Thank you, Harry. You’re a gentleman in barbarous times. Enjoy the roses. I thought it was high time I proved that green can, in fact, go well with red. Don’t let the lesson in that be lost on you. These won’t be butchered easily by your ‘black thumb of death’ either. They’re from the gardens at home. Narcissa Malfoy’s own enchanted roses. They’ll hold their vitality and scent for weeks before the magic fades.”

Harry smirked mildly. He’d grown used to Draco’s rather back-handed compliments, and to be completely truthful, he had rather missed them the last few weeks.

“You’re entirely welcome. Good to see you again, too. The roses are great, and you have my sworn word that I’ll do my best not to mangle them. Sounds as if you’ve had a tough time of it, so get rid of that coat and seat yourself. Dinner’s almost done, and that wine looks older than the both of us together. Must be worth a small fortune. I’m honored just to be at the table with it.”

Draco waggled an eyebrow while he handed off the roses and placed the wine on the table. As soon as he’d shrugged away his coat, he took his usual seat and pulled the cork on the wine. Harry already had glasses handy, and Draco promptly filled both of them.

“You’re far more astute than the average Gryffindor. Not that that takes much, but it’s still true. This was bottled when Albus Dumbledore was defeating Grindelwald. One thing Pansy didn’t take was the wine cellar, and the estate has some exceptional vintages tucked away down there, just begging to see a table and a good occasion. I can’t honestly imagine a better occasion than a good meal with a good friend, but I could imagine a better table. Really, Harry, you must let me take you shopping for some new furniture. This place could do with a bit of a makeover, even if you do keep it up well enough on your own.”

Harry set the salads on the table. The roast would be done just about the time they finished this first course, and he took his seat and his glass of wine with a grin.

“I see a few weeks on the continent hasn’t changed you a bit. Any noteworthy events from your travels? Just so you know, I’m not refusing the idea of new furniture or changing the topic, but we can get back to it later.”

Draco sipped the wine deeply, eyes closed for a few seconds, then spoke more candidly.

“Pansy was on a short vacation with Cissy just a few hundred miles away. By the time I arranged a short visit and she consented to it, I was feeling pretty chipper for a man stuck in a social vortex of an embassy and surrounded by angry, middle-aged men who imagined plots everywhere. I made it to Budapest in time to get a ’polite’ note at the hotel desk. Just a ‘manufactured emergency’ I’m sure. Perfectly designed to tease me into hope before smashing it on the rocks. Pans really does our old house proud…the bloody miserable tart. But of course, I’m not the least bit bitter.”

Draco was obviously holding most of it in while dropping the heavy hint that he wanted a bit of comforting and peace. Harry had figured out more than a few of Draco’s habits out in the last half year, and one of the most common was Draco’s slightly annoying knack for acting unconcerned and distant from a problem while expecting others to notice that he wasn’t happy. Perhaps it was a bit juvenile for a grown man to subtly imply a need for attention rather than just ask for it, but Draco had his quirks, and Harry had rather enjoyed puzzling them out. What he didn’t like was the way Draco continued to drink heavily, despite making so many other improvements in his life.

Draco almost never suffered hangovers, and his tolerance for alcohol was far higher than Harry’s had ever been. When Draco had been a ‘new’ friend it hadn’t seemed important, but as Harry had begun to realize how much he valued Draco’s companionship, that issue suddenly took on new meaning.

“Draco. I’m sorry, mate. What’s she’s doing to you is just wrong. You need to get in the ring again. Sue for the enforcement of your right to visitation. You deserve better than this. Your daughter adores you and you know it. Even if she doesn’t know what’s going on, she ought to be able to see you more than this. At least see if you could browbeat Pansy into sending Cissy to Hogwarts on the grounds of ’family tradition’. You could strike a chord there that goes beyond just seeing more of her. You said it yourself…Pansy is as Slytherin as Slytherin gets.”

Draco rubbed his eyes, still travel lagged, but glad just to be talking to someone that mattered.

“Suing is not an option. This is the least of the stunts she could pull. She’s not even angry right now. I have no intention of escalating this into a war, especially since I’m hamstrung by the fact that I love my daughter and wouldn’t turn her mother into mulch. Pansy has no such qualms. Besides, Malfoy influence is a thing of the past. My father motivated people with fear and money. What would I even threaten people with? ‘Do my bidding! Or I shall redecorate your home…garishly!’ You might have a notion on that Hogwarts thing though. If I seem conciliatory enough and kiss her arse until my lips ache, the desire to see her daughter in the house we were schooled in might outweigh the desire to keep Cissy away from me. It actually merits some thought. Hmmph. And people call Gryffindors thick! For one of those who wear the red and gold, you’re a subtle creature, Harry. No wonder I can’t bring myself to loathe your company.”

“I think I can manage to thank you for that…sort of. Care to hear the latest from Hogwarts? My kids have been up to the usual hi-jinks.”

“Bloody hell, Harry. You’re only thirty three…you’re not even old enough to say things like ‘hi-jinks‘! But go ahead…how are yours doing?”

“Pick apart your salad…prat…not my vocabulary. Jamie broke both arms going for a Wronski feint. He’s alright, since Poppy Pomfrey took care of it fast enough, but it gave me a start when I opened that letter.”

“Hah! He is so his father’s son! Every bit a Potter! Don’t tell me! They pried the Snitch out of his hands after the fact! Right?”

Harry blushed with pride. “Well…not quite, this time…but he’s been winning games most of the time. Lily has settled in nicely too. Binns is still putting them to sleep like always, Hagrid has them chasing creatures around the lawns, Trelawney is still tipsy and forecasting doom at every turn, Filch finally retired, complaining to the last that he hadn’t doled out a decent whipping in too many years, and Peeves the Poltergeist is still raising hell in the halls.”

Draco looked a bit wistful. “You know…I miss that. Not the parts you talked about at the pub…those parts. Jamie and Lily are thirteen and eleven, right? I miss that time. I wasn’t worried over anything but my reputation and my grades. And my hair. That was all. The rest was just fun and magic. Quidditch and pranks and the usual Slytherin one-upsmanship games. I do miss all that. It was a lot better than negotiating the finer points of Magic Restriction Laws and their application to citizens of countries that have just changed their name for the third time in as many years. The salad is quite good too, by the way. The baby spinach was a nice touch. Too much vinegar in the dressing, but even so…very, very edible.”

“Thank you…and I agree. I envy the kids the times they’re having now. That really was the best part of it. Of course, I nearly got killed every year, so draw your own conclusions about what I call fun. I’m just glad the kids haven’t experienced anything worse than bad falls and a few simple scares. I used to sit up nights worrying that something would happen when Jamie first got there, but I’m doing a lot better these days.”

Draco was smiling. “You really are. I missed you, Harry. Rather more than is entirely comfortable to admit.”

Harry blushed under that scrutinizing gaze. Draco was usually less forward than that. It was obvious that he liked Harry, and Harry was well aware of it, but it didn’t often slip out that he wanted Harry in ways that were more complicated.

“Uh…well…I missed you too. It was dull as death around here and I’m counting on you to liven things back up. The only thing on my social calendar this month is next week’s Annual Charitable Fundraising Dinner. It’s the only one I ever attend, because I know they actually get almost every cent to the charities they support. Tuitions for poor students, orphanages, all things I can support and still respect myself while using my name. You know I hate that whole black tie crowd, but hell…it’s for a worthy cause.”

Draco paused, letting the tense moment he’d caused slide away. He’d gotten carried away with himself again. Bad libido! Bad, naughty libido! He’d have whacked himself on the nose with a rolled up newspaper if he’d had one handy. Instead he just sipped the wine and took the change of subject in stride.

“So who are you taking this year? I remember the Prophet from a few years ago…the one where you took Loony Lovegood. She interrupted the main speaker to correct him and remind the world that funds might be directed toward the ‘Save The Crumple-Horned Snorkack Society. Never minding that said society consists of three people, nutters all, and that no such creature has ever been sighted in the history of wizarding kind. Talk about embarrassment!”

Harry bristled. “Hey! Luna is very, very sweet, and aside from a few quirks, she’s an amazingly intelligent, highly perceptive, sensitive and decent person…what?”

Draco was staring at Harry oddly from across the table, looking pole-axed.

“What? Did I get something stuck between my teeth?”

“You…you SLEPT with Luna Lovegood! Don’t even deny it! I can tell! When you spoke up there was a look. A defensive, affectionate, ‘here there be memories’ look! Oh, my sweet Gods! You shagged Luna Lovegood!”

Harry opened and shut his mouth helplessly, crimson from head to toe. Anything he said would come out wrong and he knew he couldn’t deny it with a straight face.

“Gentlemen tell no tales! That’s all I have to say. She’s a wonderful person, if you take the time to get to know her. She’s a bit like you that way, so I’ll thank you to be civil about this!”

Draco was laughing hard and loud. “Don’t…don’t worry! I won’t spill secrets! Hah!! Oh, Gods! Luna! You slept with a woman who wore a lime top with an orange skirt! In public! I don’t need to know more than that! Oh, damn!”

Harry dropped his head into his hands and growled. “FINE!! Okay! No spilling secrets…so you might as well know. She also has a body like a mink when the clothes are off, and she kept me up and going from the time we got to her place that same night until noon the next day. If I’d been a little less gun-shy about serious relationships, we’d have made it a steady thing. She was completely reasonable about my being a little uncomfortable with anyone after Ginny, and we were off-again on-again friends with benefits for almost two years. Don’t insult her in front of me.”

Draco was looking pole-axed again, and he’d gone from laughing out loud to staring in awed silence.

“What? Thinking of the next rotten thing to say about someone I happen to be fond of?”

“You can go from night ‘til noon? Like…twelve hours of sex? You’re just talking locker room bragging, right?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I’m not. Remember…I don’t get around that much. When I really feel enthusiastic about someone, it isn’t that unusual for me to stay excited for quite awhile before I finally tire out. Ginny and I were the same way for the first two years. We were like bunnies on Ecstasy.”

“Why can’t you be gay?”

“WHAT!?”

“Shit! I’m sorry! That was out loud? I thought I was just thinking that! I was mentally stuck on the whole twelve hour thing! Sorry! Never mind. More wine?”

Harry let Draco pour another glass while he tried to pretend that the conversation hadn’t happened. The uncomfortable silence between them made a lie of any attempt to forget what had been said. Something had to give, and Harry spoke first.

“Draco…I’m sorry. You know I really like you a lot. Really. Best friend I’ve had since school. The only new friend I’ve made in a decade. I just…I like women. A lot. If I really thought I could go that way, for you, I’d do it…but it just isn’t anything I think I’d feel right doing.”

Draco sipped his wine, staring uneasily at the tablecloth.

“I know. It’s not like you haven’t made it clear before. Do you know how many women I’ve slept with? Two. Pansy and Daphne Greengrass. After that I stuck to gentlemen of discretion. How many of them? Four. Harry…I’ve never actually slept in the same bed with anyone since Pansy. My love life has been every bit as pathetic as the rest of my life. I needed half a bottle of wine just to admit that the only person I’ve felt anything respectable for in the last fifteen years…has been you. And you’re straight. I am a fool. Harry…I should go. The food was delicious…but I think I need to go home and sleep off the wine for tonight. Okay?”

“Well…okay. If you’re sure you’re alright. Damn it. I wasn’t kidding about missing you, you know?”

Draco smiled lamely. “I know, Harry. I wasn’t kidding either. Have a good night. See you again soon, right?”

“Alright. Sleep easy.”

Draco nodded and Apparated home with a muted pop. Sleep easy. Sleep easy, he said. If only it were that easy. Another glass of wine later, Draco Malfoy fell asleep in the canopied antique masterpiece that was his bed. The last person he’d shared it with had been the woman who took their child from him and hid her away at all costs. He hadn’t once considered sharing it with another person, male or female, since the divorce. He’d never let any of his trysts into his personal life.

Tonight, he fell asleep wishing dearly that Harry Potter was in that bed with him, and would be there when he opened his eyes again. Sometimes dreams came true. Just never his own.

TBC.


	3. Part 3

DISCLAIMER: Warning! I make no claim to any property of J.K. Rowling's, and am in no way profiting by this. I do offer her my sincerest thanks for allowing us this garden of the mind in which we play. Further Warning! This story...and likely any I ever write…are dominated by gay themes and characters. That's how it is, if this in any way makes you uncomfortable...do not read further.

Author’s Note: This chapter is dedicated to Sa1Boy, with my thanks for the many kind reviews, especially review 1,500 for Redeem Me. Enjoy, Mart!

 

The Office-part 3…by Samayel

 

“Malfoy! Get out of my office! I’ve got work to do!” Harry was livid, skin looking red beneath his natural tan, eyes dangerously bright, and his wand hand was hovering near his hip.

“Oh, really? Work? Am I impeding the flow of paper waste toward the Records Department? Surely you can be civil at the office, since you can’t be decent enough to apologize for your outrageous behavior?” Disdain dripped like acid venom from Draco’s tongue, and Harry felt his blood pressure rise yet another notch.

“MINE? My behavior? I apologize for NOTHING! You deserved exactly what you got! I did you a favor, you…you pompous lush!”

Draco’s cool veneer vanished in a heartbeat. “You arrogant asshole! Since when does a favor constitute being Stunned from behind and collapsing onto the punchbowl! I could have been injured! You were entirely out of line! You…you…you callow, barbaric, tasteless oaf!”

“I was saving you from yourself! You weren’t even supposed to be at that event! You know you only came because I took Luna! You insulted her for half the night, out loud, drank enough booze to fill a bathtub, slapped one of the only other women that spoke to me for who only knows what reason, put a Stinging Hex on another…AND you vomited on the palm tree in the lobby! You were pathetic! You needed to be put down before you got arrested, you obnoxious, no-talent ass-clown!”

“I BEG YOUR PARDON!” Draco stomped forward, hovering over Harry’s desk, eyeball to eyeball with Harry while he shouted his answer.

“I had an invitation! I attended. This has nothing to do with that daft bint you showed up with! She deserved the scorn heaped upon her! She wore neon pink hot pants…to a black tie affair! Her lipstick didn’t even match her nail polish! She was an eyesore! A public ruin! A-”

Draco’s last comment never made it past the fist that crashed into his mouth and sent him tumbling back out of the door to Harry’s office. Harry was over his desk and on Draco a second later, dragging him by his tie toward the exit, hauling him across the floor behind him while Draco fumbled with his collar, trying to get air, cursing in muted growls. This was the scene when Nymphadora Tonks suddenly blocked the exit from the office complex.

“Harry! Draco! This stops here! Harry, let him go! Draco, if I see a wand in your hand I’ll hex you blind!”

Harry dropped Draco unceremoniously, letting the man open his tie and catch his breath. Draco was about to shout a response, when Tonks cut him off completely.

“This…this war…this vendetta…this Sicilian thing…must end! Here! Now! No more of it from either of you! Cousin…you have no business here. Go to your section and stay there! If I see you here again, I swear I’ll have your section head drop you off in the middle of Kazakhstan…naked…without a wand! Harry! You are an AUROR! Act like one! Brawling in the halls is a complete disgrace! I don’t care who started what…I’m ending it! Kill each other on your own time, but it stays out of the office from here on in! Am I understood?”

Harry and Draco glowered at each other fiercely, radiating sullen and silent menace.

“I didn’t hear an answer! AM I UNDERSTOOD?”

They both nodded grudgingly, and Draco stomped to the door, slamming it behind him. Harry bit his lip keeping his silence, then stalked back toward his office, the look on his face scaring newer people out of his path.

Draco was an unmitigated ass! He’d shown up at the Charitable Ball solely because Harry had taken Luna…and it was obvious to everyone but Draco that jealousy had been his motive! It wasn’t so much that he’d done it, it was that he had the bald-faced nerve to lie about it after acting that way two weeks ago. Harry didn’t care about the field day the press had made of it, painting Draco as a jilted lover, but the insults to Luna had been inexcusable. It was the most childish display he’d ever seen a grown man commit, and he’d come to question whether he‘d been in his right mind the past half year.

‘It’s Draco Malfoy! What did you really expect? He drinks too much, he clearly wants me to throw him a shag even though I said no as politely as I could, and he trashed anything like a friendship just to get even! That’s it…I’m changing the wards. I have had it with this shite! I’m done fucking around waiting for him to get some sense back, and if he can’t get over this and show the guts to say he was wrong, then he isn’t worth having as a friend at all!'

Harry scribbled furiously at his paperwork, easily getting twice as much done as usual, though most of it was scrawled illegibly and was unreadable even to him. He was just too pissed to notice it. The day positively crawled, and before he’d finished, he’d already made up his mind to head for Luna’s place first.

After the incident at the Charitable Ball, he’d hastily Apparated an unconscious Draco back to Malfoy manor and handed him off to the house-elves. A muted pop and he’d been back at the party, and after the press hounded him to the point of frustration, he’s simply left with Luna.

He’d had a lot of pent up aggression that night, and Luna had enjoyed helping him cope with it in her own cheerful way. She’d been a good friend since the war, and an even closer one after. Harry was truly comfortable around only a few people, and Luna was one of them. Aside from her uncanny insight, she was also one of the most genuine people Harry had ever met. Luna was almost completely incapable of deception, but Harry had never seen that as a flaw. Everyone always knew where Luna stood, because her words always matched her thoughts. Quite the opposite of Draco!

They’d spent the night, the morning, and most of the afternoon in bed. Or in the shower. Or on the carpet…up against the wall…across the divan…and on and on. There had been breaks of course, to chat and laugh and sip tea or water, or nibble at food brought by the house-elf. The food had been particularly fun. Watching Luna taunt him with a banana had been enough to start things right back up again.

A lot of people wouldn’t have guessed it, but the heiress to the Lovegood fortune and Quibbler empire was perfectly at peace with her sexuality. Though she had never married, her behavior was discreet enough that rumor had never leaked out about her wilder side. Even in her thirties, Luna was still as slim as she had been in school, and for a comparatively awkward girl who had been kind of coltish in her adolescence, Luna had become long-legged, sleek, and pretty in a fiercely independent way. When Luna wanted something, she simply went for it, enjoying life as thoroughly as she pleased, and her directness and unselfconscious ways were a welcome change of pace to Harry, who was often times sullen and private to a nearly hermit-like degree.

Luna always made him feel free to speak his mind. She never judged, or whined, or cajoled. She was just Luna, and she was truly happy being herself. It was a pleasure to see that in a person, and it always comforted Harry when they spent time together. She’d understood when he’d confessed that, after Ginny and the divorce, he was too edgy for a serious relationship, but it hadn’t meant that he didn’t think of it from time to time. For all her quirks and foibles, Luna was a wonderful person. There could be far worse fates than being married to a woman like her. At the moment, Harry was just as upset as he’d been after the Ball, and Luna would welcome the company…as well as Harry’s need for a serious release of tension.

Things between Ginny and Harry had always been passionate, and maybe that had been the flaw. There hadn’t been any middle ground between them. Either they were madly in love, or arguing spitefully. It hadn’t been such a terrible relationship overall, but it hadn’t been what it could have, and Harry largely blamed himself for failing her when she needed something from him that he just couldn’t understand at the time. His and Luna’s friendship had been far less…traditional.

There was practically nothing that Luna wouldn’t try in bed, and they had done almost everything they could think of that didn’t involve other people or creatures. There was a reason Harry rarely blushed, and it was because, having done and experienced so many things in just a few dozen wild nights with Luna, there wasn’t that much left that could make him blush…period. That said, Luna could distract him from things like few others could. Distraction and soothing were very much what he needed.

The truth was that it hurt to watch Draco act this way. He’d really thought he had a friend that improved his life just by being there, and being pressured for things he didn’t want wasn’t fair to him, or even to Draco. It was better to just be friends, sexuality aside. He didn’t feel contempt for Draco’s preferences, so why should Draco make such a fuss over Harry’s? It wasn’t right, and it wasn’t fair, and he was sick and tired of arguing instead of dining or going out together. 

Five o’ clock finally came around, and Harry pulled on his coat and left. He headed for the Outgoing Apparation chambers, where Apparation wasn’t warded against use, and popped into Luna’s entryway. Her place was a spacious, quiet suite of rooms, rented in Knightsbridge for a small fortune, but Luna had no money problems. The décor was glaring in its contrasts, but Harry had never given a damn about what color a sofa happened to be…he cared about the person sitting on it.

Luna Lovegood looked up from her book with a smile. “Heya, Harry. Good to see you again…ditch the robes and let’s chat.”

Largely unknown throughout the wizarding world, when Luna Lovegood was home, she preferred to be nude. Dressing to go out was always fun for her, and she loved to pile on wilder and wilder accessories before she left the suite, but when she relaxed, she almost never wore anything more than a favorite pair of old cotton panties, or a flimsy day robe. Harry peeled away his robes and other clothes, making himself comfortable in just his boxers, and just flopped onto the divan, sighing and shoving a hand through his hair.

“Lousy day at the office. Not that most of them are really any good, but this one was definitely bad. Good to see you too. I really didn’t get a chance to tell you how much I enjoyed the Ball…in spite of everything. Not to mention after the ball. You haven’t changed a bit. Still knocking ‘em dead and making it look easy.”

Luna answered with a lazy and cheerful grin. “Aww, Harry, don’t make a fuss. I had a wonderful time. I always do…when you visit. Things have been a little hectic around here. I’m headed out of town in a couple of days. We had a Snorkack sighting in Nepal. I need the chance to get out and do something other than quibble over details at the Quibbler. You haven’t lost your touch either! Back for another go round, or just want something cold to drink and a chat?”

“I don’t know. I’ll take the cold drink no matter what, but I just had too much on my mind lately. I’m down to my last nerve and Draco is dancing up and down on top of it. He was a complete ass to you, and he won’t even acknowledge that he was being a drunken prat. He’s made it hell for me at the office lately. I think I’m finally changing the wards at my place tonight.”

Luna’s elderly house-elf popped up with an ice cold Butterbeer for Harry, who took it gratefully. Luna slid into position on the couch, pulling Harry into place so that she could rub his shoulders. She knew he was a tense person in general, and she always seemed to enjoy unwinding him when he was too worked up, sometimes via sex, other times just like this. Harry sighed and melted, leaning back and enjoying the feel of Luna’s skin on his, soft breasts against his back, while the knots in his shoulders were rubbed away. She hadn’t done this for him in years.

“Poor Harry. Lover’s spats are always the worst.”

Harry spat out half his mouthful of beer, gasping for air as he sat up.

“Luna!? I know you don’t believe the crap the papers print! Why on earth would you say that? I’m straight! You of all people ought to know that! Draco and I are just…were just friends. Nothing happened. Nothing.”

“Well that’s the problem then, isn’t it? I don’t even read those papers, but I saw the pictures on the newsstands, Harry. I just assumed that, since you looked like one of the happiest couples I’d ever seen, that you two were a serious item. Do you seriously mean to tell me that you and he haven’t done a thing?” Luna’s tone was honestly surprised and quizzical.

“Of course! I’m not into that! Guys just aren’t my thing! I mean I…I couldn’t do anything like that!”

Luna giggled with a faint hint of naughtiness in her tone. “Oh, come on, Harry. You’re talking to Luna. We’ve done anal…and you were great at it. As I recall, I was pretty good at it too. It can’t be about the things you’d be doing in bed and I know it, because you’re talking to a girl who once had two fingers in your bum while she massaged your prostate and gave you a hummer. What’s your real objection?”

“Oh, cheap shot! We’re a man and a woman, and we had a great time doing all of that. It isn’t the same…or it wouldn’t be…with a man.”

There was a clucking noise behind him, and Harry realized that Luna was shaking her head too. “Harry. It isn’t about bodies. I don’t mind yours, and you’re a fit enough bloke, but what I really like is you. The real Harry. If you were packaged in a body with breasts I’d still like you. In fact…just in case it doesn’t work out between you two…let me write that down for later. Girl Harry. Nice breasts. Okay…where was I? Oh! It’s the person I like…not the body. I think you rule too much out just because Draco was born with a penis. Why not at least try? If it went wrong, at least then you wouldn’t have to sit back never knowing. Besides…I think everyone liked seeing you two so happy together.”

“But…but…Luna…” Harry simply couldn’t believe that Luna of all people would say something like this to him!

“Don’t but me, Harry. You adore him. You never had that look you had in the paper when we’re together. I don’t mind it…you’re a wonderful friend…and you really are the cat’s pajama’s in bed, but you should be with someone who makes you have that look. With me you’re relaxed…and I like that…but with him…you were happy. And that was without even having sex! Just imagine what it might be like with it.”

“Oh. Damn.”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t think he’s an attractive man.”

“Well…he is, but it’s not like I wank off over him! I just liked him as a person…that‘s all.”

“And you do wank off over me?”

“Yeah! Not just a little either…believe me! Some of my favorite memories happened here!”

“So…how about back in school, or while you were with Ginny…did you wank off over me then?”

“No…but what’s that got to do with anything?”

“Harry…think about it. You find me attractive because of the times we’ve been together, and because you like me. The sex came into it later…not before. You like Draco as a person. Who’s to say that, after actually being intimate with him, you wouldn’t look back and remember that as the most fun you’ve ever had?”

”Wait! How can I just…you know…have sex with man to find out if it ’works’ for me? Doesn’t that seem odd to you at all? It does to me! I mean…whole different kind of body. No breasts. No vagina. Different hips. Whole different sounding voice in bed. It’s just weird!”

“First…just because you’re not gay, it doesn’t mean you can’t be bisexual. Have you ever sat back and looked at your dating habits, Harry? I mean really looked. When we were kinda serious for awhile, I did. Ginny. Cho Chang. Me. That lady from the Auror office you dated for about two weeks seven years ago.”

“Damn…you remember Ella? You really were watching!”

“The point is this, Harry. Everyone you’ve ever dated was slim and small-breasted, independent and intelligent, and strong in their own opinions. Not one of us was all that different from a boy, excepting the lack of bits of course. Draco has bigger shoulders, but other than the voice and the bits, he has all those qualities. He’s your kind of person, and you like him. I think what’s really stopping you is that you know you want him so badly that you won’t risk rocking the boat by having a relationship. You don’t want to lose him like you did Ginny. Sometimes things don’t work, Harry. That’s no reason to not try.”

“Jesus. You’re scaring me, Luna. How…do you sit around thinking about this stuff all day? It isn’t natural for anyone to sound that bloody wise! I don’t want to lose my friend, but that may not be up to me anymore.”

Her eyes sparkled merrily as she took in Harry‘s answer, then she started rubbing Harry‘s shoulders again. “Ha! Harry, Harry, Harry. When I was fifteen I had the biggest crush on you I’ve ever had for a boy. I’ve enjoyed every minute we’ve ever spent together. I don’t kiss and tell, but you’re a special case. When I was nineteen, I had the biggest crush I’ve ever had…for a woman. Just because it didn’t last, doesn’t mean I regret it even one tiny bit. Which reminds me…tell Tonks I said hi.”

Harry remained stock still, mute and stunned.

“No…no way. You…and Tonks. You two…were…”

“I could tell you stories about what a Metamorphamagus can do to her tongue all night, but it would only come off like bad fan fiction. I had a wonderful time, and it was worth every minute of it. Still good friends, but that’s all. It is what you make of it, Harry. Go make up with him. The rest of the world needs a happy couple in the papers, and you need to take risks before you wind up wasting all that sexual talent by never using it…stud puppet.”

Harry stared at the floor, reeling under the weight of what had been said. So much…so much to think about.

“I…I’ll talk to him. If he’ll let me. He really is being quite the prat right now. You’re really okay with this? Even after the things he said about you?”

“Yes…really! I think it’s kinda hot. I’m jealous though. He has the most adorable little butt. I so wanna put him over my knee and just paddle him ’til it shines, but I can leave that to you. Draco was mean because, for once, he knows exactly what he wants…and he hasn’t gotten it. Sure, he was a perfect jerk, but jealousy is normal. Just tell him I said that my ass looks great in those hot pants, and that when I finally have some pictures of a live Snorkack, he will soooo be sorry! Still…if it goes pear-shaped, get over here quick before I’m off to Asia. I really wanna try that girl-Harry thing with the nice breasts…maybe even a D-cup. I wonder if you’d fall over if I made you that top-heavy? Oh, well! Have fun, sweetie, and if I don’t see you, I’ll just assume the best has happened and we’ll talk when I get back, okay?”

Luna leaned in and kissed him on the mouth, deeply, sliding her fingers into his hair and letting her tongue brush across Harry’s. It lingered long enough that Harry’s libido kicked to life, and it was awfully tempting for Harry to just chuck the entire conversation and take a few actions that would set Luna on fire for more. Then Luna pulled away.

“Just in case. Figured I’d better get my Harry kisses in before a certain jealous, little bitch claims them all. Be good, Harry.”

Harry sat up and started pulling on his clothes.

“I think I can manage something like that. I still can’t believe I’m seriously considering this. Not what I had written into my plans for the evening…let me tell you that! You’re something else, Luna. See you sometime soon.”

Luna smiled her dreamy smile, and traipsed across the hall with her book back in hand. Harry threw his work robes over his arm and strolled back to the entryway. A muted pop of Apparation, and he was gone.

\------------------------------------------------------------

Draco Malfoy languished in quiet agony. Everything was in ruins. Harry had punched him in the face! Sure, a quick spell had corrected the damage, but the insult was mortal! He’d gotten no work done at all, and simply threatened complete mayhem until they let him leave early for the weekend. He’d meant to have civil words with Harry, but they just never quite came out of his mouth that way, and Harry was no better!

It was unforgivable! After clearly hinting that he wanted Harry to take him to that fucking Ball, the big sap had quite deliberately taken Lovegood, just to rub Draco’s nose in the fact that he was straight! As if taking someone who really wanted to go with him would have resulted in being groped or mauled or something of that ilk. Half a year and Draco hadn’t touched the man once since that hideous accident on Harry’s floor. How insulting, to have it implied that he wasn’t fit company! And then to have Luna beside him in what should have been Draco’s place! It was a knife to the gut! Pansy would have been proud! 

The wine had started to take its toll. Bottle number three was almost empty, and Draco surveyed the wreckage. The elves had been cleaning constantly, since he’d made a habit of flinging his empties at the wall or at other breakable objects. What was it he’d said…then…

Self delusion was for the weak. 

What a bitter fucking pill to swallow.

He had it for Harry. Badly. Somehow…crazy as it sounded, he’d thought Harry felt something similar. Self delusion. That’s all it was. He’d seen what he wanted to see. Harry had been good company. He really had. Like everything else in his life…his school, his marriage…everything…he’d fucked this up too. There wasn’t even a friendship left to salvage now. Malfoys didn’t cry. It was the by-product of some bizarre household atmospheric condition, because tears were alien things to Malfoys.

Self delusion was for the weak.

Malfoys didn’t beg either, but since a Malfoy was already crying, there wasn’t much point in standing on tradition’s shoulders anymore. Draco wept until he could control himself a little better, then cleaned himself with a spell. There was nothing to be done for it. He would go to Harry’s and beg forgiveness. If he apologized first, even Harry would stop for a second and be impressed. Maybe just impressed enough to listen and hear that Draco meant it. If he couldn’t have Harry for his own, at least he wouldn’t make an enemy out of another person he’d actually cared about. Not like Pansy. Not again. This mess was his fault…and he would clean it up on his own.

Draco crawled to his feet, wobbling a little, and Apparated out of the manor, bound for Harry’s place. It was dark when he arrived, and no one was home.

Lovegood. How much could one bet on Harry being at Lovegoood’s place? A Knut? A Sickle? His entire year’s salary? Draco flopped onto the couch miserably. With his luck, Harry would be off fucking her for twelve hours or twenty hours or three weeks or some fucking thing like that. Draco curled up onto the couch and calmed himself, resolute in his intention to make amends. Now was not the time to lose sight of what he was here for. Now was also not the time to drift to sleep, but since crying and begging had already been in the offing today, who really cared if he didn’t follow form? But he still hated the couch. It clashed with drapes.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Harry popped back into his flat, intending to throw his work robes onto the sofa, stopping only when he realized that Draco Malfoy was curled on it, breathing quietly and smelling of wine. The man was out cold. Given the weird turn of events at Luna’s, Harry was feeling just forgiving enough to go fetch a blanket and place it over Draco. Doubtlessly there would be headaches and dramatics in the morning, but right now Draco looked peaceful enough. More like the person Harry had thought he’d known.

That was the crux of it, wasn’t it? Luna had made certain things seem less coincidental than Harry had believed them to be. He’d spent half a year enjoying Draco’s company and no other’s. Was there more of a reason for that than a desire for mere friendship? Was he capable of thinking that way about any man…or was it just Draco that made the lines blur? The last couple of weeks had stung bitterly. He’d been so certain that he was right, and that Draco was wrong…but could he have led Draco on without meaning to? He’d never thought of Draco romantically…he’d just enjoyed the time they spent together without bogging things down with unnecessary troubles. Trouble had shown up anyway.

Harry fixed his evening tea, and set the coffee to brew early in the morning. It was the good stuff, even though it had cost three time what the usual brands had gone for. Draco had insisted on buying him some of it, and Harry had loved it immediately, now drinking it to the exclusion of all other brands. It was well worth the price to wake up to something…

Wonderful.

Wasn’t that something to think about?

TBC!!!


	4. Part 4

Author’s Note: This chapter is dedicated to Heidi. Her reviews didn’t land on any big magic numbers, but they were always sweet, supportive and welcomed with a smile. Thank you, Heidi!

 

The Office- part 4...by Samayel

 

Draco woke with his head pounding violently. Wine. It was the wine that had done it. Sulfides. He would have been better off with gin or top shelf vodka. No…he had to drink the wine. Much of last night was horribly muddled. He remembered flinging empty bottles at the walls of the manor. He remembered crying. Ugh. Thank God no one had seen that but the house-elves! He remembered Apparating! Shit! He was…he was…

In Harry’s apartment. On Harry’s couch. Harry’s bloody ugly old couch that clashed with the equally hideous drapes.

Draco squeezed an eye open. He was curled in a fetal ball, taking up only a little more than half the couch, and he was covered in a blanket. Well…that was more than he’d expected. Harry couldn’t have been too angry at him for showing up here if he was still on the couch and was provided with a blanket. Draco shifted his head, then instantly regretted it as the movement sent his vision reeling and made his head pound even worse.

Harry. Harry was on the other end of the couch. His head was tipped back against the cushion, and his feet were on the floor. Harry had slept sitting next to him…all night. Draco’s mouth was bone dry. His breath was an offense against nature. His head was pulsating with the deep, low thud of a bass drum, and his eyes were crusted and gummed with the residue of tears and sleep. This was not a dignified way for a man of more than thirty years to wake.

His first attempt at sitting up failed miserably. His second was more successful…or less…depending on how you graded tumbling to the floor in an ungainly sprawl and moaning piteously.

“You’re up. Or down. Good. Coffee brewed automatically. I’ll get you a cuppa.”

Harry was up and moving. All Draco could really see were the shoes on Harry’s feet moving away after the man yawned and stood. Draco rolled onto his knees, pulling his arms underneath him. The rush of blood to his head was murder…sheer murder. How awful. Harry was being very reasonable, and it had to be under circumstances like this. Pathetic.

The bathroom beckoned from just a dozen steps away…the problem was reaching it. Draco would have gritted his teeth…but that made his head hurt even worse, so he crawled on hands and knees. Very undignified. There were potions that dealt with kind of situation…he just didn’t have them, and Harry couldn’t brew anything more complicated than what they’d learned in second year Potions at Hogwarts. There was nothing to be done but use the toilet and see about the healing power of coffee, which was limited at best.

It took quite a bit of doing, but when he’d made use of Harry’s toilet and borrowed a splash of mouthwash to clear his palate, the cool water he washed his face with took the edge off of his misery, and certainly improved his appearance. Harry was leaning against the wall, waiting by the door when he emerged, cup of coffee in his hand and waiting to be taken. Draco obliged that expectation immediately, drinking it with reverent silence before slouching toward the kitchen table and taking a seat.

Harry poured himself a cup of coffee in silence, then took the chair across from Draco. Silence hung over the two of them for a long while, punctuated by the sound of them sipping coffee quietly. It filled the room with the scent of fresh and well-ground beans, and it would have been a fine way to start a day, if it hadn’t been for the hard words and deeds that lingered between them.

“I’m sorry.” Draco felt odd even saying it. He’d apologized on occasion, but for anything so egregious, and usually with a calm air about him the entire while. This was very different.

Harry pushed two pills toward Draco, who looked at them quizzically.

“It’s aspirin. Muggle medicine. Just for such occasions. Put them in your mouth, take a sip of coffee, then swallow them. It’ll take at least half an hour before it does any good, but I haven’t got any hangover remedies lying about. I can cast a pain relieving spell if you like?”

Draco followed the instructions, wondering idly if it was poison, which would explain Harry’s complete calm. He shook the notion off a second later, remembering that he wasn’t dealing with Pansy. If Harry wanted to get even…he’d just…well…punch Draco in the face. He’d already done that…so it didn’t seem likely that revenge was in the offing.

“I mean it, you know. I am sorry. What I did was atrocious. I justified it because I was ashamed of having made such a spectacle of myself. I came because…because if I can’t have anything else, I’d like to at least not have made an enemy out of someone who was a very good friend…even if it was only for six months. Can you forgive me?”

Harry sipped quietly at his coffee, letting his silence linger a lot longer than Draco appreciated. Either he was deep in thought, or was a little too Slytherin for comfort and quite deliberately letting Draco suffer.

“Accepted. I’m sorry I punched you. I also said a few things I’d take back. Consider them taken back. We have a lot to talk about.”

“Really? I’m grateful for the cease-fire and the hospitality, but there isn’t much to be said. You’re straight, I wish you weren’t, and there isn’t anything for it but for me to conduct myself like a gentleman from here on in. You’re worth the effort. I’ll behave. End of story. If I walk out of here and still have a friend that will every so often tolerate an opera with me, I shall consider myself luckier than I’ve a right to be.”

Harry sipped his coffee again and stared at the shards of light peeking through the window. He was calm enough, but he was avoiding looking at Draco.

“I was at Luna’s last night.”

The words stung, but Harry didn‘t say them in a way that implied a desire to hurt. It was just very matter of fact. “I thought as much. That‘s your business. I haven‘t any say in the matter.”

“We had a very…unusual…conversation. I would be willing to admit…that just maybe…I asked Luna to the Ball…because I was uncomfortable with you all of a sudden. I didn’t do it to hurt you. I was just…suddenly…conscious…of your interest in me. More than before. I didn’t handle it well, and I didn’t explain myself at all. It might have helped if I’d at least talked to you about it.”

“That’s very reasonable of you, Harry. That’s a bit more like the fellow I know. I can say…with relative certainty…that I acted out of naked jealousy, which, by the way, is also the title of one of my favorite shades of green, but apparently I don’t wear it well. I drank too much. I made an ass of myself. I won’t do anything like that again. You’ve my wor-”

“Stop. Don’t promise what you can’t give. You’re human. We both slipped up in different ways. Maybe it will happen again. Maybe not. There’s something else I’d like to talk about, so let’s just put the last two weeks to rest, okay?”

Draco raised an eyebrow, looking over the brim of his cup with a bloodshot eye.

“Done. Two bad weeks pushed aside. What would you like to talk about?”

Harry was drumming fingers on the tabletop, clearly on edge. His gaze was almost aggressively directed in the direction of the window.

“You drink too much. I worry about you. I’d like you to try going without for awhile. If that works out okay, a splash now and again never hurt anyone, but I’d like you to stop hitting the sauce so much. I didn’t like seeing you that out of control. It didn’t seem much like the person I know…and like. How do you feel about that?”

Draco felt suddenly uneasy, which wasn’t that much different from a few minutes ago, but this was a turn he hadn’t expected the conversation to take.

“At the moment, sans hangover remedy, it sounds like a pretty fair idea. It’s very kind of you to worry after me. I…I suppose I should cut back a bit no matter what. A man’s only got one liver, and I’m lucky to still have it after the divorce, so I probably shouldn’t drive it to sue for separation on the grounds of cruelty.”

“Good. I’d like that very much. The thing is…I have this thing about…not wanting to lose people close to me. There aren’t that many people who are. I…I’d like the ones who are to be that way for a good long while. Tonks…Luna…Neville and Seamus…Ron…Hermione…and you.”

Draco closed his eyes. His head still hurt ferociously, but the words felt good. It was very different from the usual quiet and understated way their friendship had come about. There hadn’t been much talk of feelings, perhaps for reasons that were obvious now. Hearing his name spoken among those that Harry valued as his dearest friends was such a small thing, and yet it was much larger than it appeared.

“Thank you. I’ll give it a try. If I can be amusing while hung over, I can certainly keep my equilibrium while sober. It may not be pretty, but I’ll do it. I’d do a lot more than that for friends that matter.”

Harry was smirking in profile, blinking a little in the rising sunlight that cheered the apartment up a bit.

“How do I say this? Draco…some things have been pointed out to me…very indelicately…that gave me a lot to think about. I’m not nearly done thinking about them…yet, but there are some things I really ought to say now rather than later. I like women. A lot. Enough so that, when I’ve been around one long enough and felt they were really important to me, I’ve slept with them. I enjoyed it every single time. No regrets.”

Draco felt the stinging remainder of jealousy. It wasn’t gone. Not really. He could rationalize it and control it, but it was there. Harry was a genuinely nice guy, and good looking too. He was also funny, and honest, and downright decent. Listening to him wax eloquent about his fondness for the opposite sex was not something Draco really wanted to be subjected to at the moment…or ever.

“I know. There’s no need to-”

“I’m not finished yet. Let me get to the point. I’ve got friends who are men. It isn’t as if I don’t like them…I do. Very much so. Just…none like you. Knowing you…at least until a couple weeks ago…has been one of the most enlightening experiences of my life so far. There has never been a man who made such a difference in the way I felt every day. I’m very fond of you. The idea of not seeing you…actually bothers me. A lot. What I’m trying to say is…I don’t want to lose my friend…by trying to make him more than that…especially when I’d be trying something I’ve never done before.”

Draco noticed the coffee left in his cup was shivering and rippling. It wasn’t just the hangover…his hand was trembling.

‘What…what the hell are you saying?”

Harry’s jaw looked awfully tight, and he closed his eyes and faced Draco for the first time that morning, then opened his eyes while taking a deep breath, trapping Draco’s attention with twin flares of green.

“What I’m saying…for the record…is that, if you think you can keep your cool if this doesn’t work, I have only ever met one man I would try this with, and that man is you. Maybe I’m not ‘gay‘, in the sense that I have no interest in women, because I obviously do, but that doesn’t mean that I feel nothing…for you. I would like…very much…if we could date. Not rush into things or any of that, because I’m just barely wrapping my mind around what I’m saying now, but actually, formally, just date. I hear people do that kind of thing…when they both like each other quite a bit, and need some time to sort out if it ought to be something more.”

“How…how did this come about? I mean…yes! I’d like that…ridiculously so! Bloody hell, Harry! Are you serious? You feel that way…enough to call it dating?”

Harry chuckled. “You won’t like this part. Luna and I had a long chat last night. She opened my eyes about a few things. She’s good like that. It comes down to this: I care about you, and I genuinely enjoy your company. I miss you when you’re gone, and I’m happier when you’re around. I haven’t got any experience with blokes, but if I were to try this, I’d be doing it for all the right reasons, and I think I’d be trying it with the right person. I’d just like to know that, if it doesn’t work out, that it wouldn’t be the last I’d see of you. Luna also said…and I quote, ‘Just tell him I said that my ass looks great in those hot pants, and that when I finally have some pictures of a live Snorkack, he will soooo be sorry!’ You owe her one hell of an apology, because anyone who could go through what you subjected her to at the Ball and still defend the concept of you and me seeing each other seriously deserves a trophy.”

“My God. You’re serious. Luna…Luna Lovegood told you that we should go out? Fine…I’ll apologize to her! Would she like it written or spoken? I’ll take back everything I’ve ever said about her…except the part about the nail polish not matching her lipstick…that part wasn’t mean…it was just true, but I take back all the rest!”

Harry chuckled again. “You’re impossible…but this isn’t.”

He leaned across the table suddenly, one arm snaking out and landing on Draco’s shoulder. Draco had just enough time to manage a confused mumble of surprise before Harry’s lips were on his mouth. This wasn’t the shocked Harry of the living room floor months ago, this was the Harry Potter that acted with determination and swiftness. This was the person that Draco had awakened half a year ago. It wasn’t that it was a passionate kiss, or even a reckless one. It was calm, tentative and curious, yet still firm and sure. It took Draco most of a half minute before he could even manage to kiss back. Then a loud knock was heard at the door and their reverie was interrupted. Harry got up to answer it while Draco stared at the empty chair that Harry had just vacated.

“Buggery fuck! It figures someone would come calling just when I finally have a reason to be left alone for a bit!”

Harry was at the door, and looked gob-smacked when he opened it. Two Aurors stepped in a second later.

“Mr. Malfoy. If you’ll come with us, we have some questions we’d like you to answer. It seems that your former wife, Pansy Parkinson, was killed in what appears to have been an accident in Belgrade last night. I’m sorry to say this at such a time, but we’d be interested to know your whereabouts last evening, since foul play has not been ruled out. If you could accompany us to the Ministry, we’d like to have this matter resolved as quickly as possible.”

Draco looked to Harry with a glazed expression of shock and horror.

“You…you can’t be serious. Foul play? I spent last night here…I was on Harry’s couch. I had too much to drink and stayed the night. Now what about my daughter? Where is Cissy? I’m not going bloody anywhere until I know my daughter is safe!”

Harry snapped out of his stupor in time to throw his two cents worth in.

“He’s telling you the truth. I got in just before six, and he was already asleep on my couch. Draco couldn’t have been anywhere near Pansy last night. Now let’s hear where his child is!”

The older of the two Aurors cleared his throat and raised a hand for patience. “Needn’t worry for your child. She’s already being transferred to the London office as soon as the paperwork in Belgrade is cleared. We were notified last night that Ms. Parkinson had passed away, and our initial attempts to contact you failed. This morning we activated a few devices at the office and pinpointed your location so that we could expedite this matter. It wouldn’t do to leave your child unsupervised, and so she has been attended to by a representative from the Ministry since last night. She’ll be in London in an hour. All the more reason to please join us at the Ministry and help us clear this up as quickly as possible. I’m sure with Mr. Potter’s statements about your whereabouts, we can lay this to rest very shortly. Shall we then?”

The senior Auror motioned politely toward the door, and Draco looked Harry’s way and started walking for the door. “You’ll come too, won’t you?”

His back to the Aurors, Draco mouthed the plea he didn’t dare voice in front of others. His lips silently worked to shape the words ’Please…I need you.’ Harry grabbed a coat off the back of a chair and conjured his keys and wand into his hands.

“Right. Don’t you worry. We’ll have this sorted out fast enough, and I’ll bloody well make sure they treat you right! You and your daughter are going home together, and that’s final!”

A series of muted pops later, Harry, Draco and the Auror’s were marching through the offices of the Ministry, bound for one of the better appointed interrogation chambers, which, despite the fearsome sounding name, were actually supplied with rather good furnishings. As soon as they made themselves comfortable, the junior Auror spelled a quill to record the conversation and readied some fresh parchments, while the senior Auror prepared his questions. Harry waited quietly near the door, hoping that Draco wouldn’t lose his already frayed temper during this process.

“Draco, Lord Malfoy…we’ll dispense with Veritaserum on this occasion, since we already have the statement of Harry Potter, an active Auror, confirming your whereabouts this past night. The Ministry retains the right to call for Veritaserum testimony in the event that information should come to light casting doubt upon the truth of your statements today. Is this understood?”

Draco answered quickly. “Yes. Understood.”

“Ahem. First…and of course the most obvious question…have you, or any party known to you, been party to a plan to harm, defame, or kill your former wife, Pansy Parkinson?”

“Absolutely not! I haven’t even been told what happened, or where my daughter is yet. I haven’t any idea how she might have come to harm. You said it was an accident of some kind…and that’s all I know.”

“Right…right. Then do you, or any parties known to you, have any reason to suspect that someone would wish to harm, defame or kill Pansy Parkinson?”

“Dear God, man! Have you ever met her? The woman is a demon clothed in human flesh! I can’t think of anyone who ever met her that wouldn’t wish ill upon her! I can’t even tell you with any certainty that her mother didn’t pray nightly for her demise! The only thing I’m sure she ever did that was good was give birth to our daughter…you know…the one I want to see as soon as possible!”

“Mr. Malfoy…be calm. This won’t take much longer. We just need these standard statements out of the way as a formality. Now, having stated that you are first uninvolved, and second unaware, of any plot against Pansy Parkinson, can you please give a detailed account of the events of last night…for the record?”

Draco took a deep breath and calmed himself. “For the record…I was drinking almost from the time I came home early from work. My house-elves can attest to that. Perhaps a little after five o’clock I Apparated to Harry’s apartment, with the intention of apologizing for my conduct at the Charitable Ball two weeks ago. An apology that was long overdue, by the way. Harry wasn’t in, and I fell asleep on the couch waiting for him. I woke up with a terrible hangover, and we were just having coffee and making peace. Then you knocked, and here we are.”

The Auror turned to Harry.

“Mr. Potter. Can we add a statement of your own to the record? Regarding the events of last night from your perspective.”

Harry shrugged. “Sure. I left work and dropped by Luna Lovegood’s place. I was there a little less than a half hour altogether, then I Apparated home. It was sometime just before six in the evening, and I found him on the couch, sleeping it off. I threw a blanket over him and had my evening tea, then fell asleep on the other end of the couch. He was still curled up when I woke up. Hadn’t moved an inch. I had coffee set to brew when we got up, maybe twenty minutes before you two arrived. We talked about the ‘incident’ at the Charitable Ball and that was that. Nothing more to tell. I can tell you that Draco wouldn’t have killed her under any circumstances. I know him better than most people ever will. He’d have cheerfully hexed her nine way from Sunday if she hadn’t been the mother of his child, but this man has never been and is not a murderer.”

Draco gave Harry a careworn look of gratitude. He didn’t particularly like the oblique reference to Harry’s knowledge that he wasn’t a killer. His father had killed Muggles by the score, often for sheer amusement, during the war, but Draco knew full well that he hadn’t the nerve for that kind of thing. Not that he didn’t like to see an enemy suffering…but killing someone, for any reason, simply wasn’t something he had ever wanted to do. It was just that, having a Mark on his arm, and a family reputation to live up to, it still stung a bit to be reminded that he wasn’t really a serious threat to anyone. Nonetheless, Harry’s testimony counted for a lot, and it felt good to be reminded that someone believed him completely and without reservation.

The older Auror flipped through a couple of parchments, then lifted his head and smiled.

“Well! That gibes with our timeline of events. We’ll consider your testimony at an end, and we’ll contact you if there are any further questions. Your daughter has been placed in the care of an Auror three doors down on the left, and you have our condolences for your loss, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco sighed relief. “Marvelous. Thank you! Now…with all these questions out of the way, can I at least ask what happened to Pansy? Cissy wasn’t exposed to anything…awful…was she?”

The younger Auror folded the papers and fled the room quickly while the senior Auror hemmed and hawed.

“Well…ahhh…how to put it? You daughter saw nothing…inappropriate. She was in bed asleep when the…uh…‘accident’…happened.”

“And your point is? Please! Divorce aside, the woman was the mother of my child! What happened to Pansy?”

The dignified gentleman blushed furiously and looked away.

“Well…you see…as near as we can tell…the report from Belgrade indicates that…well…she was crushed to death.”

“Good God! Crushed?”

“Uh…yes. Very suddenly.”

“Crushed by what?”

“A horse.”

“What? Was she out riding at night?”

“No…not as such. It…eh…fell on her.”

“You’re bloody serious? A horse just fell on her, but she wasn’t out riding? Did the bloody thing just fall over?”

“Well…no. It fell…directly on top of her.”

“Alright! That’s enough! Just tell me…how in the bloody blazes did a horse just ‘fall’ directly onto her?!”

The poor man looked stricken. “With all due respect…it appears that Ms. Parkinson had arranged for the animal to be suspended by a lever and pulley, and was beneath it, engaged in an act of intercourse with the animal, when the rope snapped. She was crushed beneath it…almost instantly. I’m so terribly sorry, sir.” 

The man hurried off, flustered beyond his ability to say anymore. Draco stood stock still, staring at the wall with a blank expression. Harry stepped into his view, waving a hand in front of his eyes to get a reaction.

“Draco? Draco? Are you alright?”

“Alright? Oh…yeah. I’m alright. I just can’t quite accept that the universe has such a sense of poetic justice.”

TBC!!!


	5. Part 5

DISCLAIMER: Warning! I make no claim to any property of J.K. Rowling's, and am in no way profiting by this. I do offer her my sincerest thanks for allowing us this garden of the mind in which we play. Further Warning! This story...and likely any I ever write…are dominated by gay themes and characters. That's how it is, if this in any way makes you uncomfortable...do not read further.

Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to Thrnbrooke, who has faithfully reviewed so many fics with kindness and cheer J Thank you, Thorny!!

 

The Office-Part 5...by Samayel

It hadn't been an easy time, these past few months, but Harry couldn't really complain. The holidays had come around and Ginny had graciously made sure that Harry got plenty of time with Jamie and Lily. Draco had been busy making Cissy comfortable at the manor before her first year at Hogwarts, as well as making sure that her inheritance was in proper order. As it turned out, even Pansy's insane largesse hadn't managed to destroy the fortune she'd assumed control of, and Cissy had a very large inheritance remaining, of which Draco was now the executor.

Draco had been lavishing attention upon his daughter, who had at first been too shocked and quiet to express grief properly. She barely knew her father, but certainly seemed to like him well enough despite having only seen him for a few hours at a time over the past decade. Cissy was a pale and wistful little girl, with blonde hair and eyes like ice. Harry had only really seen her at the Ministry that first day, but his first impression had been a fair one. She was comfortable in an environment of wealth and class, but it hadn't gone entirely to her head, and she appeared to be as social and even tempered as any child of her age. This left plenty of room for modest tantrums, since the average eleven year old is a fairly mercurial creature, but Draco was coping fairly well, even without the soft veil that alcohol could bring.

There had been shrieks of complaint from Pansy's long widowed mother, and there had been an inevitable court appearance before Ministry arbiters, who ultimately found in Draco's favor. This came about primarily because the Widow Parkinson went mad in the arbitration chamber, firing several Dark curses and at least one Unforgivable before she was Stunned and carried off by the staff. No one could say with any certainty why she had gone insane at that moment, but Harry, who had been there and had shielded Draco from her attack, understood the subtle reason for her antagonism. Draco had listened calmly to her initial snide comments, then stamped his foot twice and whickered. In the chaos that followed, no one cared to ask what that might have meant, but the widow Parkinson had certainly known…and that was that…Draco was a father again.

It had been strange in other ways as well. Ginny had been downright reasonable when they'd spoken about certain things. There were realities that had to be dealt with…and some of them were not things Harry had initially imagined when he'd made up his mind to at least try dating Draco Malfoy. It was all well and good to try dating a bloke, especially since the bloke was really decent at heart and good to be around now that he wasn't jealous as hell and drunk to boot. It was all well and good, but people that mattered to him, especially Ginny, had a right to know what was going on. Anything that had a potential impact on his children was, by default, Ginny's business as well as his own, and Harry had made up his mind to keep no secrets.

This was bound to become common knowledge eventually, and the press had already hinted at it more than a few times, but until a few months ago, Harry had been able to say with perfect honesty that he and Draco were no more than friends. This was no longer true, and Harry wasn't much given to lying.

Admittedly, a case could be made that they weren't lovers…since that term implied a level of intimacy that they hadn't yet achieved, but still, when blokes snogged, it meant something!

It wasn't really that different from snogging a woman. It was certainly heartfelt, and Harry could look back at those moments and say that they hadn't repulsed him at all…quite the opposite in fact. In the aftermath of each of their kisses, when they'd had the leisure and privacy for more than a peck on the cheek, Harry had to admit that he'd been as 'excited' as he'd been for anyone else he'd ever cared about, and perhaps even a bit more than most. He was attracted to Draco, the way he'd once been attracted to Ginny, and Cho, and Luna, and while it was still very new and slightly unnerving…he wasn't the least bit discontented.

Of course, there really hadn't been time for any more than that, since they'd both been terribly busy, and weighed down by family obligations, for the past few months. The notion of actually being confronted with male genitalia was still a bit rattling, but given that they'd been dating when they could, and things were moving very slowly, Harry felt confident that he wouldn't have to deal with that for awhile yet.

Ginny had only shook her head in amazement when Harry had explained the nature of his friendship with Draco. She'd been reasonable, but Harry suspected that she still didn't completely believe him.

"If it were anyone but you, Harry Potter, I'd know they were taking the piss like my idiot brothers! Draco…Malfoy? I should have known that two people who acted like they hated each other for that long…must have been holding back something! I'll…I can take your word for it, but I assume you're telling me this for a reason."

"Well…yeah. You're the mother of my children. You have a right to know these things. Believe me…it isn't anything I planned, but anything that might eventually involve Jamie and Lily involves you by default. I figured we needed to decide what's appropriate for them to know…and what isn't."

Ginny smirked outrageously, then planted her hands on her hips in a frighteningly similar gesture to her mother's habits.

"Harry Potter, the press has been calling you Draco's new beau for most of a year. Do you think the kids went to school in a vacuum? Anyone who doesn't know you're dating Draco has been hiding under a rock or on top of a mountain! Granted, I just assumed it was all the usual nonsense, but the only thing left that the children could accidentally learn is what positions you two are in when you shag…and as long as they don't know anything like that…we'll be fine."

"But…are you telling me they already know?! Why haven't they said anything? Why haven't you? I've been trying to keep this under wraps for months! Don't tell me that everyone knew about this except me!"

"Not as such, Harry, but get real. You went to an opera with him! You don't even like opera. You've cooked dinners for him, for Merlin's sake! It would have been more subtle if you'd just blown each other on the steps of the Ministry! We knew it was either happening or about to happen months ago. The kids asked about it as soon as they got home, and I just told them that the press is full of silly people, and even if it was true, it didn't matter one way or another. People like who they like, and that's all there is to it. Their father would tell them if there was anything they needed to know, and I'm assuming they were just too happy to see you to pester you with any hard questions."

"Fuck me…"

"I have…it was pretty good. Good enough to make two kids at least. So…are you two a real item yet, or are you flitting about the edges of it like you usually do before diving in?"

"No! Nothing like that! We haven't done anything…except a bit of snogging here and there. The kids were about…ours and his…and you know we wouldn't do anything like that in front of them! You're okay with this? Really?"

"Gods, Harry! It isn't like there weren't gay kids at Hogwarts when we were there! These are different times. No one cares about that kind of thing as long as you're reasonably discreet and gentlemen about the whole thing. If Malfoy floats your boat…sail him to shore already."

"There were gay students at Hogwarts?! Who? I mean…I'm sure there were, but I never heard about all this!"

"Duh! You couldn't spot Colin? You have no gaydar at all, do you? That boy was like a vacuum for cocks after his fourth year! And your hero Oliver Wood! You think that rivalry he had with Flint was for real? They had a standing bet that the winner had to bottom the night after the game. Why else do you think Wood practiced so hard? It was his ass on the line…literally!"

"Well Sweet Fuck All! No one told me! Stap me fucking vitals…Oliver…and Flint! It's a deal. The kids won't see or hear anything they shouldn't, but you'd be okay if Draco and Cissy joined me and the kids for the annual trip to Diagon Alley? It's just…I take them every year, and Draco is taking Cissy for the first time, and he's a bit stressed out. I just thought I'd be nearby for moral support."

"Just because I think he's a bit of a prat, it doesn't mean I don't trust you. I know perfectly well that you look after Jamie and Lily just as carefully as you always did. Go on then!"

And that had been that. All in all, Harry was more than a little bemused by the twists and turns his life had taken this past year, but he couldn't honestly complain. Ron and Hermione had reacted similarly, although Ron had spent a lot of time staring helplessly into his glass of beer and muttering about Harry finally going 'round the twist. Still, no one had said a single harsh word over the entire matter, and that had to count for something.

The Floo flared bright green, and Draco stumbled out hurriedly, dusting off his clothing quickly before turning to Harry with a wild eyed look of panic.

"Harry! Help! I think I need a drink…so I came here first. It's…it's been a tough day."

Harry stood up from his chair and greeted his clearly stressed out, sort-of lover with a kiss and a hug.

"Let me grab some tea then. Is Cissy alright? We're on for Diagon Alley, by the way, but what happened? You look rattled."

Draco paced nervously, throwing off his coat and strolling back and forth in front of the fireplace while he wrung his hands.

"Cissy is fine. She's in bed. The house-elves know to keep tabs on things if I step out now. Just…you know…this parenting thing is a bit harder than I'd imagined. There are…permutations…ramifications…situations I couldn't…who could imagine these things?! Too much! Too much! It was…it was horrible!"

Harry carried over a cup of soothing tea, handing it off to Draco, who gulped it down like a man who'd spent a week in the desert.

"Good God, Draco. Calm down and breathe deep. What happened?"

"Harry…Harry. We…Cissy and I…we went…shopping…"

"Yeah? I'd have thought you'd have loved that. I know you love Cissy, and you think shopping is a competitive sport as well as a form of exercise. How bad could it have been?"

Draco looked at Harry with eyes that seemed haunted, the look on his face like that of a man who had stared into the very abyss of hell itself.

"You don't understand…we went shopping…"

"Yeah? So?"

"…for training bras."

Harry suddenly flinched. The thought hadn't even occurred to him. Ginny must have taken Lily shopping for things like that. Harry had been blissfully out of the mix. Poor Draco had just been dragged headlong into a world where angels, and fathers, feared to tread.

"Oh…oh, damn. Let me get you another cup of tea!"

Draco flopped into place on Harry's couch, rubbing his temples and handing over his cup.

"It was horrible, Harry. Horrible. No father should have to endure something like that. I'm not cut out for it. What do you say to the little girl you remember, when she asks if it flatters her figure? What do you say?! My baby is beautiful! Boys will look at her! Not just look…you know…look! I'll…I'll put a curse on it! One that will blind them if they stare for more than a second! The filthy little pigs! Or maybe one that will induce painful flatulence! No one…no one will get away with ogling my baby girl!"

"Hey…relax! Breathe! Your daughter is eleven years old. So she's developing a little early…so what? It's still a good long while before you should really worry over anything like that."

Harry stood behind Draco, handing over a cup of tea, and took to rubbing Draco's shoulders. Draco closed his eyes and sighed with relief.

"Ahhh. Gods. That's better. Let them say what they will in the press, but you have brilliant hands. You're right…and I know it, but…I never had to think about these things. I spent the last decade wishing I could see my daughter for more than a few hours a month. I wasn't really prepared for…for this kind of thing! Bras! Bras, Harry! My daughter needed bras! Ooo…don't stop…that feels wonderful."

Harry kept at his task, working the knots from Draco's shoulders. "I always liked giving a good massage. I hate seeing a partner that tense. And you are tense!"

"You're bloody right I am!"

Draco sighed again, letting his head loll back, staring mournfully into the face of his ersatz lover.

"Harry. You are so very good to me. Not that I haven't done wonders for your sense of taste and decorum, but you are a wonderful man. Maybe it isn't…the right time…but…I know what would…distract me. Would you…at least consider…perhaps…coming over to the Manor tonight?"

Harry's hands froze. They'd discussed this only a few times before, never quite settling on a date. It wasn't that he didn't find the idea appealing, but the prospect of finding himself naked in bed with another man was…well…still a little daunting. He was going to say yes, but he lingered overlong, hands paused and practically shouting his apprehension to Draco.

"It's too soon…isn't it? I'm sorry, Harry. I shouldn't have even asked. You've already done me as much good as anyone or anything possibly could. I just…I haven't the right to ask more tha-"

"Yes."

And it was out. He wasn't even sure where he'd got the nerve, but Ginny's haunting reminder that he either skirted the edge of things or dove straight in was fresh in Harry's ears. Draco had waited with a patience that no one would have expected of him, for months, and Harry had kept him waiting, hanging on the edge the entire while. The time for waiting was over.

Draco stared up in silent shock, not sure of what he'd just heard. Harry took the initiative again, all pretense dropped now that he'd made up his mind, and leaned down to kiss the one he'd made wait so long, one hand gently cupped beneath Draco's chin. The faint spice of tea was on Draco's breath, and his various products surrounded him with scents that were positively intoxicating, whether intended for a man or a woman. Draco answered in kind, his tongue sliding across the nacre of Harry's teeth, slipping deeper, brushing softly against Harry's own.

"Thank you." It came out a breathy whisper, just as tongues parted, and Draco stood up, taking Harry's hand from his shoulder and holding it as he rose. "Harry Potter, there is nothing I could want more…than finally waking up beside you…somewhere other than your floor. We could just take the Floo to my suite. Bring along clothes and we can tell Cissy that you Floo'd in for breakfast. She knows you're the best friend I have. It wouldn't be inappropriate at all…and it would be a long awaited pleasure. Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"No…but that never stopped me before, did it? Hah. We came this far…and it hardly seems right to let this wait any longer. You waited long enough for me to figure out what I do or don't feel ready for. Let's go…alright, love?"

Draco had always liked the way that word dropped easily from Harry's tongue. It was a common expression of affection, but Harry hadn't once used it until they started properly dating. It never felt forced or strained, and Draco had spent too many years observing people to be fooled by false assurances. Harry was nervous, but resolute, and that was as true for Draco as it was for Harry. Not that Harry needed to know that!

Harry gathered a few things from his bathroom and a change of clothes for morning, and joined Draco in the Floo, scattering a handful of powder across the coals before calling out Malfoy Manor by name. A second after Draco crossed the threshold, Harry stepped from the fireplace into Draco's suite, only to find Draco speaking in whispered tones to a house-elf while Harry dusted himself off.

Draco shook his head and motioned for Harry to stay quiet, and as soon as the conversation ended, he tip-toed toward the hall exit, pointing at the huge four poster bed as Harry followed quietly behind. Blond hair peeked out from under the thick blankets and sheets, and Harry realized that, at some point, Cissy had entered the room and decided to sleep there while her father was out. They worked their way out into the hall and down a fair way before Draco softly pounded his head against a tapestried wall.

"I'm a horrible father! Pathetic! Inept! Pansy was right to keep Cissy away from me! What kind of man runs off as soon as he thinks his daughter is asleep, just to piss and moan over a shopping trip! She woke up missing her mother…and the elves had to let her sleep in my room after swearing up and down that I'd be back! She was terrified! I should be shot by Muggles! Maybe pilloried! And whips! They should call up old Filch and let him have at me 'til there's nothing left! I shou-"

"Stop it! You're getting hysterical again! Just stop! The only thing wrong with you is a lack of experience…and we both know why that happened. I've been saddled with acting as a part-time father for most of a decade, and I don't always get it right either. Neither do Ron or Hermione or even Ginny. Everyone just makes it up as they go along, and you'd be used to that if Pansy had let you get a little more practice in. Don't ever say that kind of thing in front of me again! I swear I'll kick your ass if I hear anything like this in the future. You already meet the basic requirements that put you ahead of the pack. You love your daughter very much, and you want to be a good father more than anything else in the world. With a combination like that, no one can bollocks things up completely. Got it!?"

Draco took a few deep breaths, rattled by Harry's forceful tone, then turned and flopped against the wall.

"Where did you learn so much, O Savior Of The Wizarding World? You know I hate it when you sound all-wise and all-knowing. I appreciate it just the same, but it still rankles."

Harry chuckled softly. "Got nothing to do with knowing anything. I just accept that sometimes I don't know what to do. Or that there is no easy answer. That's normal. Anyone who acts like they always know what to do…is usually screwing up monumentally and just knows how to make it look purposeful and cool while they do it. Relax, love. Go be a father. There will be another night for us. Okay?"

Draco composed himself admirably, standing to his full height and smoothing his coat and shirt.

"You're right. Another time, Harry. The kids will be in school soon enough. Tonight, I'm pulling a chair up next to my bed, and sleeping in it so that if she wakes again I'll be right there. But first, you're not leaving without a decent snog…lover."

Draco leaned into Harry's arms, reflecting mournfully on what fine arms they were, savoring the faint feel of stubble against his lips and chin. After all those years of mocking Harry for being so ridiculously hirsute that his beard was evident early in the afternoon, it seemed fitting that he enjoyed the feel of that face so near his own.

There would be another time for more than this, with Harry, when other more important tasks were done and done well. But for now, it was time…to grow up…and be a father.

 

TBC!!!


	6. Part 6

“The Office Part 6...by Samayel

 

So…do you two, like, snog and all that when we’re not around?”

‘This conversation isn’t happening. My child didn’t ask me that. It didn’t happen, and I live in a world where a question like that will never be asked.’

Harry tried to bring his cresting sense of panic under control. It was just a simple excursion to Diagon Alley. Harry had taken Jamie both of his previous years, and Lily had joined them last year. It was a perfectly normal thing for a parent to do with his magically gifted child. Unless, of course, your child had already twigged to the fact that you were dating another man and decided to ask you about it calmly while shopping for books.

“So…uh…how about some ice cream at Fortescue’s? Your sister should be back any second…where did she go? There she…almost out of the line…matter of seconds, really.” ‘Hellish, exhausting, incredibly long seconds. Lily! For the love of God and Merlin! Please hurry! Just once!’

Jamie frowned and rolled his eyes. “Daaaad! That only worked when I was like five or something! It’s no big deal. I just…I figured I should ask about it…because you never say anything.”

‘SHIT! When did the ice cream distraction stop working? Damn! Not happening, not happening, not happening!’

“Never mind. You still owe me the ice cream though.” The tone of exasperation that only a teenager could manage tore at Harry’s heart. ‘Oh God. I suck at this. He hates me. We’re distant. I’m distant. Got to…say something!’

“Fuck-all. Sorry. Don‘t tell your mother I said that in front of you, Jamie.”

“Yeah…whatever.”

“Okay. I’m…I’m not good at this, alright. Wanna Dark Lord topped off? They tell me I’m aces at that kind of thing. Need Quidditch tips? I’m all over it! Telling you anything like that…not so much. You want to try an easier question…something just a little less personal than that?”

“You mean it?”

“Yeah. The ice cream’s still on afterwards. Just…go easy on your old man, okay? Throw me something a little easier than that.”

“Well…uh…does he really live in a castle…with…like…ghosts and portraits just like at school? ‘Cause that would be pretty cool.”

’Okay. Better. I can handle this. Wow. I’m telling my thirteen year old son about my boyfriend’s manor. Does it get more surreal than this?’

“Not quite a castle…but the manor is huge. Not many ghosts…except in the west wing. I’d have to check on that…but there are portraits. Why do you ask?”

“You know…’cause if you moved there that’s where we’d see you…right? Wouldn’t be so bad if it’s as big as people say. I heard they even have a Quidditch pitch there. Cissy said it was almost as big as the ones for the pros, but with no stands or seats. Just a huge pitch to play on with no interruptions. That would be brilliant!”

“Yeah…I guess it would. There is a pitch there. Just so you know…I haven’t really made any plans for moving or anything, so let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Still…I’m sure we could arrange a visit during the hols if you wanted to keep up your practice. Anything else?”

Jamie shuffled his feet and vaguely wrinkled his brow, not sure if he was stepping into more risky territory or not.

“Well…do you…do you like him more than you liked Mum?”

That one stung, even if it was asked in perfect innocence. Harry needed a second to mentally regroup, then charged ahead with a small sigh.

“It’s not really the kind of thing people can measure, Jamie. You know I still care very much about your mother, right? Draco is…I like Draco every bit as much as I liked your mother. I like different things about each of them, and there are even a few things they have in common that I like about both of them.”

Jamie fielded the next question carefully, scuffing his feet distractedly. “Do you like him more because he’s a guy?”

Harry bit his tongue. He was just good enough at this to know that dodging the subject this far in would only cost him his self respect, not to mention Jamie’s sense that he could speak openly and honestly to his father. It wasn’t out of line to ask these questions…and if anything, Harry had been wrestling with them quite a bit himself lately.

“Not really. I like who he is. The personality. I think…that’s what matters most. We make a good team. He’s a very good person…and I want to be around that person as much as possible. Does that make any sense?”

“Yeah…I guess. He’s awfully fussy though. Almost as much as Gram Weasley. Is he always like that?”

“Hah! Yeah…sometimes. Mostly when he’s going out in public. The rest of the time…not so much. If he seems a little worked up today, I think it’s mostly because it’s his first time taking Cissy to Diagon Alley, and he didn’t get a lot of time to be with her when she was younger. He’s trying a little too hard…but it’s because he really loves her and wants everything to be right.”

“That’s cool. Sooo….”

“Yeah?”

“Who really wears the pants-”

“Don’t even go there. This discussion is a pants-free zone and staying that way. That aside…is there anything else?”

“You’re happy, right? I mean…it’s like you’re happier than you used to be. So…this makes you happy?”

“Yeah. I suppose it does. Very much. You okay with that?”

“Yeah…pretty much. Uh-oh. Sis just dropped her Monster Book Of Monsters. I better help. LIL! WE GOT ICE CREAM COMING! HOLD UP!”

Jamie took off, wand in hand, ready to immobilize and capture Lily’s run-amuck text, while Harry leaned back against a post of the stairs. It was a hell of a thing. He’d just talked about Draco with his own son. It wasn’t anything like he’d expected, and Jamie seemed a lot more sensible and worldly-wise than Harry remembered being at thirteen, but that was good right? Jamie was a very level headed kid, and no moodier than any other boy his age.

It couldn’t be denied, but his children were dangerously close to adulthood. Where had all that time gone? He could look back easily and remember holding infants and changing diapers. Now they were asking grown up questions about grown up life. It was…terrifying? Weird? Surreal? Magnificent? All of the above and a million other things besides. A few more years. They’d be out of Hogwarts and off into the world in no more than five years. Bloody terrifying. And beautiful.

Jamie and Lily were headed back to him, already debating the merits of various flavors of ice cream. Harry idly hoped that Draco was having an easier time of it than Harry was. It wasn’t all bad, but it was stressful, and as Harry knew all too well, Draco was not especially gifted at coping with child/parent related stress.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

 

“Ahhh…here’s a perfect cauldron. Just right for Potions class. One good rod for stirring…hmmm…maybe a spare set for emergencies would be appropriate. Do you like these, Cissy?”

Draco held up the assembled items for inspection, hoping they’d meet his baby girl’s approval. For a girl raised largely by Pansy, Cissy was actually much less picky than one might have imagined. She was very forward and downright blunt at times, but she wasn’t much given to fussing without just cause, which was a great relief to Draco.

“Yes. Daddy?”

“Hmm? Yes, love?”

“Are you a ’bottom‘?”

The cauldrons and rods crashed to the floor while Draco scrambled to regain his mental footing and recover the fallen goods. Despite being past thirty years of age, his voice almost cracked while he hastily answered.

“Umm…well…heh…you see…uh…bugger! I mean…oh, bloody Merlin! Honey…can we talk about this after we get out of here? This isn’t the kind of thing you just ask a person, much less one’s own father, in a public forum. Okay?”

Draco gathered the fallen accouterments while Cissy nodded sagely, a hint of exasperation in her stance. He hurried the items to the counter and paid for them while sweat beaded on his forehead, and his hand shook a little while he penned a cheque from Cissy’s tuition account. As administrator of her funds and as her guardian and parent, Draco could make use of the recovered portions of the Malfoy fortune whenever Cissy’s best interests were in mind. He was scrupulous when it came to investing and preserving that fortune, so that Cissy could be assured of a very comfortable future. Once they were out into the street, Draco could barely contain his shock.

“Cissy, darling, is that…is that something your mother told you about? Because that’s a very personal thing between people. It’s not a bad or a good thing, just a personal one, and it isn’t polite to ask something like that without a certain amount of privacy first.”

Cissy acted as if she was mollified by that, but she was an insistent little creature of cat-like curiosity, and when she wanted to know something, she wasn’t easily put off.

“You know mother and I had…the ’talk’…about girls and boys and all that. It’s not like I don’t know at all about that stuff. I just wondered…that’s all. I mean…you couldn’t really blame a person for wondering…could you?”

She sounded very wise and sophisticated, a perfect model of the front put up by every adolescent since the dawn of time, trying to sound as adult as possible and yet falling terribly short of the mark in reality. Although it was horrifyingly annoying to children of that age, most adults found this behavior ‘cute’ in a tongue-in-cheek kind of way. Draco, on the other hand, was recovering from the sudden onset of heart palpitations at the very notion of discussing such a thing with his daughter.

“Sweety, I don’t know what you might have heard, from your mother, but I can’t say with any certainty what I am…or am not, I just…I don’t have a great deal of experience at that kind of thing. Mr. Potter…and I…”

“You mean Harry. You don‘t always have to be so formal, Daddy. It‘s stuffy and dull.”

“Well, yes…Harry…and I…this is a very…a civilized thing, honey. We don’t just run about, frolicking and…well…you know…all over the place.”

“So…how is it that you know you’re even gay? I mean…if you don’t really do anything but make eyes at each other, couldn’t you just be straight and not know it? After all, I’m kind of, you know…here…so you can’t be all that gay.”

’I’m going to die. No…scratch that…I’m going to pray for a swift and merciful death, and in its infinite wisdom and mercy, the universe will ignore me utterly! Bugger!’

“It doesn’t quite work that way, love. A person…well…sometimes it take a bit of time to work out what one likes, but people figure these things out. I know perfectly well what I like, and I’m quite alright with that. It took me a bit longer than some to work all that out, but I certainly don’t regret being part of making you! If anything, I rather think of you as the single most worthwhile achievement of my entire life. You’re…are you alright with me…seeing…Harry?”

“Well, he is the most famous person ever to come out of Hogwarts. Slew a Dark Lord, saved the world and all of that. If you’re going to see someone, you couldn’t do much better than that. I thought…I thought he’d be taller, though. More…you know…heroic. He’s very odd. Nice, but odd.”

“Heh. Well…he is that…at times. Mostly nice though. We all thought he’d be a bit taller, but that’s life for you, no guessing what’s to be until it is. As long as you’re alright with all of this, love. You know I love you very much, and if you’re at all worried about something, you can always ask-”

“Yes, Daddy! I know. You’re always saying that. You worry too much. I’m not worried about anything. I just hope Hogwarts is as good as people say. Anything but that hideous school in Switzerland! It was dull as death! And the uniforms! Horrible! Do you think I’ll get into the same House as you and mother did? That would be nice.”

Sore subject that. Draco had heard that Slytherin House had changed a bit in the years since he’d been in school, but it had been a different time then, and the parents of his day had pushed a lot of things in certain directions. Ostensibly, Slytherin was still a house that embodied the finest qualities of Salazar himself, but without the specter of war hanging over them, the students had broadened their social horizons quite a bit. While Draco privately hoped that his daughter would join the house of his ancestors, he sometimes caught himself wondering if he wouldn’t be just as happy with Cissy safely ensconced in some other house.

Except Hufflepuff. That would just be a tragedy.

“I’m sure you’ll love it, dear. With the exception of some…difficulties right at the end…the war and all…it was the grandest time of my life. Also, the uniforms were quite sharp if I do say so myself. Didn’t mind them a bit. Just…when they say…’stay out of the Forbidden Forest’…they really do mean it. You won’t be missing anything important by avoiding that…trust me. Oh…and if they happen to have a hippogriff in your Care Of Magical Creatures class…don’t offend it. Really. And-”

“Daddy…you’re worrying again.”

“Heh…so I am. Enough of that, then. I don’t think ice cream would be a terrible fate to behold. You?”

“I suppose I could tolerate ice cream. If you let me order any flavor I want and promise not to fuss over me in front of other people so much. It’s not so bad at home, but really, Daddy, it’s not like I’m five! I’ll be twelve in seven months. Don’t be so stodgy in front of the other kids…I don’t want them to think my father is an old fogy!”

Draco suddenly realized that he was completely mortified, and restrained the urge to lose his slender claim to dignity by defending his reputation against his soon to be twelve year old daughter. Stodgy! He wasn’t stodgy! He was…refined! Polished!

“As you wish, love. Ice cream for two, hold the worrying. I think I can fend off encroaching old age just long enough for this.”

\---------------------------------------------------------

 

The children had boarded the Hogwarts Express, chattering merrily about their purchases and comparing lists of classes, Lily having firmly cemented her place by Cissy’s side, sharing stories of teachers and ghosts along the way, while Jamie gave a rakish wave from the window and just headed for his friends. Harry and Draco sighed at almost the same time, barely covered by the steam from the train as it geared up for its journey, slowly rolling forward with increasing vigor, just as it had in their day.

Draco flopped back against the stone arch nearest them, eyes rolling back in his head. Harry chuckled mildly.

“That bad? I thought you did just stellar, back at Diagon Alley. Or did she put you through the wringer when I wasn’t watching?”

“Harry…you have no idea.”

“Oh? I think I might. You wouldn’t believe what Jamie put me through! It was all scuffing feet and bored tones, but I think the Inquisition went easier on its victims than the interrogation I got.”

“Got you too, did they? I admit…I never really factored this kind of thing into my plans when we started seeing each other. Cissy is…well…when she wants to know about something, Merlin help me, it’s just about impossible to side track her. I mean really, Harry! I don’t even know where she learned about some of the things she asked?”

“You’re kidding?! She’s so…demure, I didn’t think you’d have it that bad. I had to fend off a quiz about whether we snogged when they weren’t watching. I dodged that one and steered my way back to safer ground. You know, hammering home that it’s a perfectly normal thing to like who one likes and all. Thank God their mother has her wits about her. No bloody idea how I’d have managed all this on my own. Scary how smart they’re getting. Or how wise. Like they have the world all figured out and they’re just a few years from being grown already. What did you run into?”

“Oh nothing much. The usual. Sweet Fucking Merlin, Harry…my eleven year old asked me if I was a bottom! We’re nothing alike! She’s blunt and direct and absolutely confounding to me at times. The degree to which I am woefully unprepared to cope with this isn’t covered by any chart you can imagine!”

“Wow. That’s a bit heavier than being asked if you snog. So…are you?”

“Good God, man! How should I know?! I’ve never…well not that! I told you I hadn’t done all that much. Do you think I just trot around the globe having it on with whomever crosses my fancy? I’m a Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake! A sense of decorum is called for! Are you?”

“Haven’t the foggiest. Wanna discuss it over ice cream?”

“Well, I suppose I could tolerate ice cream…as long as I can pick any flavor I want and you won’t make any faces over my choice. You have such plebian taste. Vanilla! Who goes to Fortescue’s and orders vanilla?”

It wasn’t precisely the road to high adventure, but as they strolled their way back a safe Apparition point, Draco fussed, and Harry smirked, and the Hogwarts Express steamed and rolled away, carrying another generation into the future. Children grew and changed, and the times made old things new and new things old, but ice cream was still ice cream, and that was alright.

 

TBC!!!


	7. Part 7

The Office Part 7...by Samayel

 

“Come on…pull the other one! I know you’re kidding me! That’s the most spurious logic I’ve ever heard you utter out loud…and that’s saying something!”

The ice cream was delicious, sweet to counter the faint bitterness that came with realizing that their children would be gone for months. Harry had taken his traditional vanilla, and Draco was enjoying an enchanted concoction that swirled and shimmered as it changed from flavor to flavor while he nibbled at it.

The topic had remained a tense one, at least for Draco, who hadn’t really thought as far ahead as what actual sex would consist of. Mostly, he was certain that there would be Harry, and there would be himself of course, and there would be nudity, and then…well… it didn’t take all that long after reaching that point that his wank fantasies would culminate in orgasm. It hadn’t really been necessary to imagine more than a bit of rolling about to finish the job, but the reality of sleeping…or rather…not sleeping with Harry were coming faster than…faster than…well…faster than he did when thinking of Harry!

He was certain that he could prove himself to be more interesting in bed than Luna Lovegood. Well…probably. Luna was evidently more talented than most gave her credit for. He was rather looking forward to a serious exchange of oral favors with Harry, who looked like he filled out the boxers he habitually wore quite handsomely, but there was a great uncertainty about what to do beyond that.

His daughter’s words still rang in his ears. Daddy…are you a bottom? And the unspoken answer hung above Draco even now. I don’t know. Not that that would be bad…or good, but it was rather definite. He’d managed to hang on to one small semblance of virginity for this long…and the notion of sudden and drastic change was a little…frightening.

And that brought the subject back to Harry’s incredulity.

“Harry, really! It makes perfect sense to me.”

“That’s because you’re a Slytherin and your mind works in ways much more convoluted than a normal human’s. I still suspect the hand of a Slytherin in the engineering of the London Orbital Motorway.”

“I only said that, since you have more experience than I do at this kind of thing, that you should bottom first, and then we’ll see how it goes from there. Perfectly obvious to me.”

“Yeah…crystal clear…like mud. First, my ‘experience’ is all at being a heterosexual…and that’s kind of like being on top by default. Then throw in my experience at exactly the kind of thing we’re talking about, and that was as a ‘top’ too. Trust me…I think I can be sure that you’ll enjoy yourself, but all my experience adds up to my being the right one to start off as the top.”

“Oh, come off it! By that rationale, my experience with women, no matter how limited, means the same for me. At least you’ve had fingers and such up you…that’s practically the same as being the bottom!”

“Bunk! Those were female fingers, and they were massaging my prostrate while I was getting the hummer of a lifetime. Believe me, if I thought you had enough practice to guarantee a rival of that experience, I’d say yes in a heartbeat, but you don’t…and you’ve admitted as much…so no comparison. And don’t think I mean this to be cruel, but let’s be honest, in all fairness, I haven’t any bloody idea what to do with a prick that isn’t my own, so it’s not like I can brag about knowing everything. I can only say that, when it comes to what we’re talking about, I know exactly what to do, how to do it well, and I can promise you that, by the time we’re done, you’ll have a smile on your face for so long that they’ll probably have to jackhammer it off your corpse, just to preserve your dignity at the funeral.”

Draco stopped in mid-nibble.

“Those are bold words, Potter. You think awfully highly of yourself.”

Harry smirked mildly. “Occupational hazard. Save the world a few times, your head swells up, hats stop fitting, and the next thing you know…you’re a sex god.”

“Do try not to forget that I personally recall the ‘sex god’ being unconscious in his kitchen, soaked in hot coffee, scalded and with a goose egg on his head the size of a Quaffle. And all of this is beside the point. Are you afraid for your precious masculinity? Will it suffer an irreparable blow if you show a certain generosity and let someone else do the shagging? Or is it just that you really, really have your heart set on doing this a certain way?”

Harry stopped cold. The question hit the mark…and Draco grinned impudently over his ice cream, eyebrows raised in triumph and feverish curiosity. 

“I knew it! It’s true. Admit it! You have intense inner fantasies about shagging the stuffing out of me! You do and you know it! You’re just too polite to say it! Go on then…tell me I’m wrong. I dare you.”

Harry turned red a heartbeat later, then nodded respectfully before smirking again and dropping a question of his own.

“Okay. Fine. Yes. I’ve thought about it. Why wouldn’t I? We’ve been dating for months, and these last few weeks…you know the only reason we waited was because we both had children to think of first. If it hadn’t been for that…well…we’d have gotten to this before now. But…the way I see it…if you can even ask me a question like that…then you’ve had the same thing on your mind. I admit that I’ve thought about it. So tell me you haven’t once thought of me…how did you put it? ’Shagging the stuffing out of you.’ Tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

Draco pursed his lips with irritation. The bastard had him dead to rights. He hadn’t given the matter enormous thought…but while his personal wank fantasies were fairly traditional and quite brief, considering how long he’d been single, his occasional daydreams were another matter. Mostly…that entire business with Harry announcing that he’d lounged around Luna’s apartment all of one night and well into the afternoon, only taking breaks for food and conversation between sexual activity, had taken a toll on Draco’s imagination. TWELVE HOURS. When Draco added up all the time he’d spent having sex during his life…with another person involved in the process…it might barely come to a TOTAL of twelve hours.

To be entirely honest…the idea of having someone repeatedly trying to shag him for more than two hours was more than a little unnerving. Not that he planned to show fear in front of Harry this late in the game, and since a first night between them was dangerously close to being in the offing, it was doubly important that he establish a certain dominance here and now. Just because he was the one who was more comfortably suited with his sexual identity…it didn’t mean that he was just a flaming poof who dropped his knickers for the first handsome fellow to smile the right way.

But Harry was a lot more than that…wasn’t he?

“Right. I might…admit…that the idea isn’t without…a certain amount of appeal. It’s just that…I mean…well…damn! How do I say this? Harry…I’ve reached my current age without once doing ’that’. Can you even grasp that I’m…I’m…”

Harry’s chin dropped. “Oh my God! You’re nervous! The only reason you’re putting up all this bluster is…it’s because…never mind. Let’s get out of here, alright?”

“What? Now? We’ve still got ice cream here…and…”

Harry grinned wildly, which always made the years peel away and left one with the vague impression of a teenager wearing a grown up suit.

“We can always have ice cream later. I think we need to stop talking and thinking…and just start doing. The manor is a kid-free zone for the next few months, and we don’t have work tomorrow, let’s stop wasting time and just see what happens when the mood strikes. Come on!”

Draco managed to maintain calm disdain for about seven seconds…then grabbed his coat from the back of his chair. “Okay…sold. Raincheck on the ice cream for later, home now. What got into you all of a sudden?”

Harry leaned in close, and warm breath was on the shell of Draco’s ear. “Draco, I don’t want to shag you. I don’t want to bugger you, I don’t want to fuck you, I don’t want to do anything that you don’t want as well. What I do want, right now, is to get some small measure of privacy, and then I want to make love with you, to you, anyway that works. Do you get it? ‘Cause I do. It isn’t what we do…it’s why we do it. Maybe one of us won’t know exactly every last thing about how and what to do, but who bloody cares? As long as it’s you, I’m where I want to be. It’s right. It’s what I want. Don’t you?”

Draco stifled a whimper. It would be terribly undignified to transform into a simpering puddle in the midst of Fortescue’s. Damn the ice cream! What the bloody hell could anyone do when told something like that…by someone they genuinely wanted, badly enough to fight for, even when it looked like it was pointless or completely implausible? Draco placed his spoon on the table calmly, rose with all the grace he could muster, tugged on his jacket and turned to Harry with a nod of agreement.

“Right. Bugger it for lark. Let’s go then, shall we?”

And off they went. Half a serving of vanilla and half a serving of Fortescue’s best sat melting in their dishes on the table…and the gentlemen who had ordered them couldn’t have cared a damn.

 

H/D/H/D/H/D/H/D/H/D/H/D/H/D/H/D/H/D/H/D/H/D/H/D

 

‘The house-elves will be busy tomorrow.’

Draco mused a moment while Harry pushed him back against the door to Draco’s bedroom and sucked hungrily on the sensitive skin just beneath Draco’s left ear. Their clothing literally littered the hallways from the entrance all the way to here, and Draco was still on fire with the realization that, in spite of everything that should have prevented such a thing from ever happening, and against all expectations, he was starkers in the hall of his own home with Harry Potter wrapped around him, making his knees go bloody weak every time they pressed just close enough together.

‘Gods! That’s…that’s his prick rubbing up against mine! I can’t bloody believe this! You dream and wank and wait and…and then it finally happens…’

“Don’t…stop.” That was all Draco managed to get out before the hands on his hips pulled him closer and tighter, making him ache with the need to just bloody well come right that damned minute. His own prick was as hard as iron, canted slightly to one side and grinding nicely against Harry’s warm hip, and he was just aware enough of reality to acknowledge the faint moisture that had leaked from one or both of them, slicking the skin between them with pre-come.

They’d ditched the last shreds of clothing only a few minutes ago. Harry’s boxers and Draco’s rather pricey briefs were ungraciously flopped together a few feet from them. That first glimpse of each other naked had lingered only a few smiling seconds before they’d slid back together and remained inseparable since.

The last decade hadn’t really done either of them much harm, and Draco found to his complete surprise that, no matter how much he’d mocked Harry for being a tad bit hirsute over the years, the effect of faint stubble brushing against his neck was…well…bugger…certainly nothing to mock a fellow about! The rest of the man was lean and muscular, and Draco had noted with a certain pride that, of the two of them, his ’package’ was just about an inch longer than Harry’s, as well somewhat straighter. Harry’s more than made up for it in girth, and had a sharp, upward curve near the head, which peeked, red and faintly wet, from the dark scruff of his foreskin, while Draco’s had slid free as soon as he’d gotten entirely hard, which hadn’t taken long at all with Harry up against him.

He just HAD to do something other than stand here, especially since Harry seemed entirely comfortable devoting the next day or two to nothing but Draco’s vulnerable neck.

“Mmm…hold…hold still.”

Harry’s lips slipped away from his just long enough for Draco to gather his scattered wits. He delivered a fast and teasing peck to Harry’s mouth before sliding down to his knees in front of the door, letting his hands slip down the length of Harry’s chest and stomach as he went. 

Soft, dark hair that barely hid clean skin and lines of muscle. His hand was slithering its way around the erection before him. This…this he knew how to do and do well. Not every visit to the Continent had been a lonely waste of time, but he’d never had a reason to do more than the minimum necessary to satiate a lover. No one had mattered like this. 

The organ in front of him bobbed slightly with tension, tip still weeping with the need for relief while Draco made his hand comfortable around it. As soon as his lips slipped around the head, he heard a sigh from above him…Harry, eyes closed and mouth just a little slack, a look of desperate contentment on his face.

Not that Draco had any intention of letting the man off that easily. After nearly a year, he meant to make this last! The door creaked open behind him. Harry had pushed it and then supported himself with the frame, arms up and tensed while Draco greedily teased by tongue and lips, then engulfed the whole of Harry’s cock just for sport. His own prick jutted up from his lap, and was seriously wanting for attention, but it would just have to wait until Draco had a chance to educate Harry regarding the art and science of the blow job.

“D…damn. No…idea…you were…so forward!”

Harry got the words out while trying to remember the power of speech. Draco possessed an enthusiasm for what he was doing that bordered on the mystical, and Harry was definitely benefiting from the extra effort. All those other things, the things that had dogged his heels since the start of it all…they meant nothing now. Draco felt right. Draco felt good. 

Maybe he didn’t really know much about being with a man, but from where he was standing now, the difference amounted to very little except for the strictly physical. This was who he wanted, for all the right reasons, and right now he could only barely manage to remember the need to thank Luna later.

When Draco finally pulled away with a rakish smile and stood up, Harry pulled him into a fast embrace. 

“Let’s not have anymore of that ’only sex-god in this relationship’ nonsense, shall we?”

“Okay, okay…point taken…and completely granted. Mmm…you want to continue this on the bed, love?” Given how impressive Draco had been only a minute ago, Harry was willing to surrender the point cheerfully.

The grand old four poster had survived countless generations of Malfoys, and Draco idly wondered if it had ever seen a couple like this in its time. Possibly, given that Malfoys in a general sense were prone to relieving their tension however they pleased, but he was absolutely certain that no Potter had ever shared the sheets inside these doors before! Ah, well…there was a first time for everything…and more than a few of them tonight! Now this was luxury. 

“You already know…don’t you? No one but you has been here since the divorce, Harry. I…don’t…don’t know how else to say it, but thank you.”

Harry’s lips moved back up Draco’s neck while answer was breathed in a mutter just beneath his ear.

“I know, love…and believe me I’m not ungrateful. Let me show you just how much.”

Harry’s hands were working their way down Draco’s hips, and his mouth was slaking some savage thirst as it made a trail down Draco’s chest. It quickly dawned on Draco…what Harry intended.

“Are…you..?”

“Shhh…yeah.”

And then Draco had cause for utter silence, because words would only have gotten in the way. His fingers twined through short, dark hair while Harry surprised him. It wasn’t expertly done, and it wasn’t even done with even the faintest air of familiarity, the small stops and starts while Harry found his own way kept Draco on edge with hisses of pleasure.

That was exceptional enough, but what Harry’s fingers, soaked in spit as they were, were doing…that was unbearable! Logically, he knew quite well what they were teasing at, and his legs shook faintly while muscles tensed at every touch, but the warmth of Harry’s mouth and the gentle suction that lapped at his cock were enough to relax and distract him until he just didn’t give a damn.

One of those damnable fingers had gently worked just a first knuckle’s worth of its way inside of him, and the faint, wet friction was making Draco absolutely crazy. Harry’s mouth pulled away for a second, and a hand gently nudged a leg a little further upward. When the spongy heat of Harry’s tongue was added to the motion of that finger, Draco gasped and tensed sharply.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t heard of such a thing, or even vaguely glossed over it while imagining sex, but it still seemed like a shockingly intimate thing to do so quickly! And there of all places!

“H-Harry…!”

Harry’s head moved back and he lifted it, smirking. A glance told Draco that Harry understood his momentary shock. “It’s alright. You’re the cleanest person I’ve ever known. If you don’t want me to…”

Draco caught his breath a second later. He shook his head no and leaned back again, trying to relax his shaking legs and just let this flow without another round of nerves.

“Relax…I love you. You’ll like this…once you relax and get used to it.”

Draco kept his silence, but he already knew it felt good. It was just resigning himself to what it made him desire that took a little coping with! Every time that devil tongue daubed and swiped gently, while respectful fingers teased him open further, his stomach flipped with a nervous hunger that was becoming more and more insistent. The bastard really did have a knack at this.

The grand old clock against the wall caught his eye a moment, and Draco suddenly realized that they’d been in the bed almost half an hour, and he hadn’t the faintest idea where that much time might have gone. He was only sure that he was melting and aching with tension and desperate do anything…even…even that…because even as good as they felt, they made him realize that they weren’t enough. Not nearly! His hips shifted involuntarily, and every time he reached for his own cock, which was practically begging for immediate relief, Harry would gently push his hand away! He’d taken to clutching the sheets with gritted teeth and trying to keep the pleas for mercy from surfacing. The need for something more…significant…had overtaken him, and he’d felt himself open his own body to further conquest by that hot and alien, but frighteningly gifted, tongue.

Then Harry finally paused, breathing faintly heavily, and his eyes were tinged dark by visible lust. There was something pleading, searching and yet respectful in them.

“Do you…want…”

“Yes! Please! Gods! Harry I can’t take this! I want this! And please…bloody hurry!”

What the blazes was he doing back there?! Muttering some bloody ill-timed incantation? A soothing slickness suddenly became present, and Draco wondered for only a second where the adorable prat might learned such a thing. He was racking up a rather large list of things for which to thank Luna, and then reality kicked in when the heat of flesh was pressed against him, and Harry was looking him right in the eyes, looking surprisingly calm and patient for a man on the brink of entry. Draco closed his eyes after nodding his assent, and wriggled faintly against the building pressure.

Harry pushed with painstaking slowness, keeping Draco’s legs up and his knees pinned to his chest, while Draco languished on the edge of entry, wondering how long it would take before something that would allow him to come would finally happen.

Muscles that had never been challenged protested against the intrusion. Harry recognized it instantly, in the sudden intake of breath and in Draco’s suddenly widened eyes.

“Too…”

Draco answered hurriedly. “S’okay! Don’t…stop. Just…slower. ‘kay?”

“Aye, love.” And hands were sliding up his hips and chest, then along the line of his neck, and warm lips were suddenly where they belonged, making the thing that was intruding into his body seem vague and unimportant.

Time lost meaning…again…and Draco came back to himself quite suddenly when he realized that Harry was close against his body, snug and warm, at rest as deep inside Draco as was possible. The sense of fullness wasn’t as bracing as he might have imagined, but it was infinitely more satisfying than the aching hunger he’d endured earlier.

Harry was unbearably gentle, still kissing Draco with same soft intensity that had carried them this far. Draco took matters into…well, not quite his own hands per se, but all it took were a few experimental shifts of his waist to show Harry that he was comfortable…and hungry for more. The same firm but carefully paced movements quickened only slightly, increasing in intensity and depth, each further push making Draco’s eyes roll back into his head while his teeth gritted with the damnably pressing need to come. Even now, Harry still found small ways to keep Draco’s hands from finding their way to his erection, now almost completely recovered from the initial surprise and discomfort of entry.

“P…please…”, and Harry’s lips slipped away from his neck just long enough to whisper an answer.

“You want to…come? We’ve only started, love. I can…if you want?”

Harry’s answer was an emphatic nod and the soft grind of Draco’s prick pushing upwards against his chest with need, daubing pre-come along the way.

“Yessss…Gods…please! I want…I want to come.”

“Then let me show you something…shhh…just trust me.”

He’d been comfortable enough, on his back, knees up and legs curled around Harry’s torso, but then Harry’s arms were under him, tipping him back slowly until his backside was propped comfortable in Harry’s lap, still connected by the prick pleasantly lodged inside of him, while Harry had risen on his knees as much as he could, suspending Draco’s weight partly by virtue of strong arms and partly by the muscular thighs almost under Draco’s arse.

The result was what mattered. The position wasn’t particularly comfortable, and made blood rush to Draco’s face in a heated flush more intense than the one he’d felt for almost an hour now, but the head of Harry’s prick pressed against the same place with unerring accuracy now. Every carefully controlled thrust against that bundle of nerves within made Draco’s cock leap and twitch in return while his hands clenched tight, wound into the sheets while cords of muscles stood out in stark relief.

Harry pulled a hand from Draco’s waist and slid it down his chest, bemused by the sight in front of him. There was no question that this was right, but it was still strange to see a flat and definitely male chest in front of him, sweat slick and heaving with urgency. And then there was the swollen and needy prick that twitched restlessly, just inches from where his own body met Draco’s. Alien. It wasn’t as if a few boys hadn’t had ’the horn’ in school years ago, but he’d never been so intimately involved in the process. It was one thing to hear someone tugging at themselves in the bed next to you…it was another to be in the bed with them, the cause of the excitement!

When his hand slipped back up Draco’s chest he paused at the slick spot where pre-come had oozed warm droplets onto the flushed skin. His hand wrapped itself gently around Draco’s cock, eliciting a moan from below while the rigid thing in his hand was thrust upward almost by reflex. Draco’s hips flexed sharply when Harry pulled gently around the shaft and in tandem with the soft and certain movements of his hips, he pushed Draco over the edge into orgasm.

Draco’s hands snapped from the sheets and clenched nails into Harry’s thighs. The sounds that came from his throat barely seemed human, entirely different from the familiar utterances that past lovemaking had brought. No modest affair, conducted with discretion and limited only to the exchange of favors had ever brought a pleasure like this…this madness! His body shuddered while his climax pulsed through Harry’s hand and onto Draco’s own chest, several droplets even spattering his chin and throat. Harry was still staring in amazement, taken aback by the fact that Draco’s orgasm was every bit as exciting to him as Luna’s or Ginny’s had once been, and by the sudden awareness that it made no real difference to him at all. Someone he adored and desired was in throes of pleasure…and that was all that mattered.

Words seemed wholly inappropriate, and the kiss that followed was a mutual way of saying what couldn’t easily be spoken. It lasted long, heavy breaths between them here and again…until Draco realized that he was hardening again, and that Harry hadn’t yet come to orgasm, and was still iron stiff inside him. He suppressed a wicked grin of delirious triumph, failing when a soft chuckle slipped from his throat. Harry’s head pulled back, quizzical and full of unspoken questions.

“Jus…just realized…”

“What?”

Draco grinned outrageously, eyes bright and hungry, before he replied.

“You owe me about eleven more hours of this…or I’ll never let you live it down.”

TBC


	8. Part 8

The Office Part 8...by Samayel

Three years. With Draco Malfoy. That's how long they'd been turning the Wizarding world upside down. Three years had passed in the twinkling of an eye, and Harry looked back at them without regret. His life hadn't turned out anything like he'd imagined it would...but for Harry that was surprisingly normal. An 11 year old orphan thrust suddenly from unwanted adopted nephew to magical student and inheritor of a terrible legacy. A young man finding himself a father of two and husband after defeating a terrible evil that had dogged his heels all through school. An Auror with no great enemies left to fight after spending his life fighting just to stay alive. A divorcee with a job he'd come to hate and children he missed. And it all came to here and now...a man living with another man...once his boyhood rival...now oddly his best friend and companion.

Jamie, now sixteen and almost Harry's own height, popped through the door of the manor's antechamber and found his father staring into a mirror, lost in thought.

“Dad! C'mon! You're supposed to be ready by now! Draco'd lose his mind if he saw your tie looking like that at this hour! Lemme help.”

Harry turned and let his son, who was surprisingly good with the complex knots called for with formal ties, get the thing sorted out properly. He'd already fiddled with it himself for some twenty minutes before he'd got lost in thought.

Lost in thought. That might have described his last decade! So much had passed in what felt like so short a time. Here he was a man in his thirties, bespectacled, fit despite the years, respected around the globe for his youthful heroism, but largely quiet in his personal life...and for all the distance he'd come...he still felt like an awkward kid thrust into a role he wasn't prepared for and making it up as he went along. Was that all life was? Was that the secret? Just doing as well as one could whether your plans worked out or not, no matter which way the winds of fate blew you?

Jamie tucked the tie into Harry's vest carefully, patting smooth after securing the knot just right. “Much better. You look sharp, Da! Don't let anyone fuss at you over it! I think you finally look like the kind of wizard who might just have saved the world...instead of just looking like my dad. I'm proud of you!”

Harry smiled. “That's my boy. To the rescue, when I needed it most. Thanks. You make your old man proud. You look pretty sharp in those formals yourself, kiddo.”

Jamie headed for the door. “Right-o, dad! Your welcome. Just be ready when they start the music.” And then he was gone and the door to the hall was closed. 

The other double doors looked out onto the Malfoy gardens, dense with tailored foliage. Harry shuddered at the thought of all the cameras that would probably waiting to click out there. All this time and he'd never gotten over his intense dislike for media scrutiny. Presumably, people like Rita Skeeter could be blamed for that, but the past was the past. The world he looked out at now had gradually changed in ways he hadn't expected. In a way, he was a part of another tide and struggle that was changing the world, standing in the middle of a changing way of looking at life and people's places in it. And like usual, it wasn't something he'd planned or expected...it was just something that happened...and that he wasn't sorry about...not even a little.

There had been improvements in his life's lot...and almost all of them trailed their origins back to Draco. That chance encounter in a pub, singing songs off key and complaining about life's little cruelties, had touched off a chain of events that had altered everything that came after. Harry no longer worked for the Ministry. As a part of the Wizarding world's most famous (or infamous) 'gay power couple' he had no need to eke out a living on an Auror's salary. He was backed up by Draco's massive fortune...and able to take a break while he figured out what to do with his life...and he'd quickly found what he really wanted to do.

He spent his days working for various charities both in and outside the Wizarding world. He used his name to get attention for causes that were worth it, and he had the staffing to investigate charities before lending them his name and fame for their cause. Those that swindled and deceived their way to donations without helping their supposed cause found that Harry was just as willing to use his influence to destroy them and help get funding shifted to better agencies. The foundation that Draco had formed for him made it possible to live on a small stipend from the massive donations, issuing grants to various agencies with the rest. It had been Draco's idea...and while Harry hated media and publicity...there was a certain sense to using his name to help other people. He'd done it sparsely before, carefully choosing causes he liked and supported, but now it had expanded into a career in philanthropy. He'd even gotten a bit better at public speaking.

Draco had promptly joined him in the enterprise...and it was hard for people to find fault with either of them, when they clearly appeared to care principally about doing things that made a difference in people's lives, not for gain, but just to see to it that it was done. Direct grants from the Potter Foundation included spokesmanship by Harry and Draco...although Harry was clearly favored by the press...and that kind of publicity was almost worth more than the Galleons or Euros.

The office. Those words meant something entirely different now. Now they had offices in Malfoy Manor, with huge and ancient desks and comfortable surroundings with properly compensated hired house elves to see to their comforts. Harry didn't like paperwork...or long meetings...but he'd carefully picked a staff that would translate legal documents into legible forms and do the investigative work he needed to be sure of proper candidates. It was a good cause. He felt good about it. He woke up knowing that he'd made a difference and that it mattered. 

It had also been three years since either he or Draco had had more than two alcoholic beverages in a single session. A glass of wine with dinner, a champagne toast here or there, a cold beer on a warm day or with close friends. That was the limit...and it was hard to want to drink when life seemed rich and full. His friends were constantly coming and going, regulars against all odds at the Manor that had once housed a family greatly feared by wizards everywhere. Now it was the social center of the Wizarding world, a hub of activity and friendship.

Harry heard the orchestra strike up a tune. It was time to leave this last gasp of quiet behind and face the next step in a strange life. He had no real doubts, no regrets, and no fears. Outside family and friends waited to celebrate alongside him. He was doing precisely what he wanted to...without compromise or uncertainty. He had the support and well wishes of many backing him up, and it wasn't such a great leap to make when you thought about it. Three years of proven happiness, even with the tiny bumps along the road and the occasional bruised feelings. It meant something.

There was no more time to woolgather. Harry opened the double doors and stepped out into the flash of cameras. It wasn't the first time his private and public life had crashed together...and it probably wouldn't be the last.

_____ _____ _____ _____ _____ _____ _____ _____ _____ _____

 

Draco had been ready for half an hour. No...scratch that...probably closer to an hour. All he could do was pace and try to comfort himself with the knowledge that spells were keeping him tidy and properly groomed whether he sweated from nervousness or not. The formal robes and tie stifled, but he was actually used to them far more so than others. His life had been one of formalities and inconveniences that came with social standing.

So many ups and downs. His life had risen and fallen so many times that it was hard for him to experience more than marginal confidence about the future. He been born to wealth and comfort and privilege...only to see it all slide away and then return to him. He'd adored his daughter despite the circumstances of her birth, and watched her shepherded away from him, only to return and light up his life. He'd gone from a life of leisure, to a life of labor that he hated, only to find a purpose and relevance to his life that made his current work seem like a walk in the park.

And then there was Harry. Worst enemy of childhood, best friend of adulthood, closest confidante, dearest lover and partner in all things even up to and including parenthood. Even if he couldn't be sure that it might all fall away tomorrow...Draco was happy with where each day had brought him so far. These past few years had been, without reservation, the best of his life so far.

Cissy peeked her head through the side door of the antechamber and saw her father pacing. The coltish young woman smirked impudently, a perfect echo of her father, and teased him ever so slightly. “Daddy...pacing will only make you sweaty and flushed. Even spells can't hide that forever. Stand still and be a proper gentleman...just for a few more minutes. The wait is almost over. Look at yourself in the mirror...I KNOW you love to do that!”

A little proper snarkiness actually eased Draco's tension...especially when it came from his beloved daughter. Cissy had none of her mother's malice, but all of her father's knack for backhanded compliments and subtle sarcasm, usually put to use for someone's amusement or benefit. She was a natural at lightening bad moods and bringing people around to a wisely chosen course of action.

Draco took a few deep breaths and faced the mirror. “You're right, sweety. I do look pretty good. I ought to...it cost a small fortune to get everyone matching in the height of good taste for this season...but it does really flatter me to be surrounded by so many people looking their very best, doesn't it?”

Cissy lunged forward and gave her father a hug, then stepped just a foot back and made sure the creases uncreased by magic properly. “Oooo...I'm so proud of you! I feel like a princess in a fairytale dream. It's perfect...all of it! I just wanted to let you know that the band is almost ready...and tell you this: I love you, Daddy! I'm so happy for you I could just...just...Merlin...almost explode with joy!”

Draco flushed slightly with over-emotionality that he'd once thought was limited to Hufflepuffs. Cissy was his pride and joy, the one person besides Harry that he adored beyond reason or limit. That she could be here this day, for him, was all he could have hoped for and then some. “Now, now, love. Calm...calm...don't get me started, too! Giddiness looks perfectly appalling on Malfoys!”

He'd meant to say more, but just then Lily Potter poked her head in the door and whispered “Sorry...Cissy...we have to be in position. Hurry!!”

Draco smiled and kissed his daughter on the head and cheek. “Go on, sweety. I'll be along as soon as the music kicks off. Thank you...very much in fact. I love you. Now get in position and try to look as magnificent as I know you can.”

The girls were off with a few giggles and waves goodbye, and Draco was alone in the antechamber off the gardens again. So little time left...he could spend the last of it staring into the mirror and ruminating about the past. Better than pacing. It had all worked out in the end. Harry Potter, of all people, had made him happy, content, relevant and nearly confident. It defied reason to some, but Draco understood it.

They were two of a kind, from a special time and place, and they understood one another in ways that made them work oddly well together. They'd had experiences, in war and in peace, that had made them who they were today...and they each grasped how those events had changed them and molded them. It was sealed when they'd finally taken up a true relationship...complete with the kind of intimacy that only came from a relationship between equals. Harry might not have been gay, as some saw the word and its meaning, but he was honest with himself and able to thoroughly enjoy intimacy with another man. Draco...well...he might have been married and a father and divorced as well...but he knew himself well and knew that he would never have chosen another woman as his partner...his preferences were simply stronger in the male direction than Harry's, but that hadn't changed the dynamics of their relationship at all.

Harry was still his rock, his center, his calm and competent partner that soothed away his stresses and worries, while Draco was Harry's verve and adventurism, making the idle thought into reality and making the impossible seem achievable. They simply worked, in a way that others slowly began to see as well, and in due time the press had gotten over the shock and simply trailed them about like royals, making them the center of public speculation at every turn. It was Draco that had seen a way to turn it to good purpose, making the press work for them, and incidentally getting good things done in the process. It had made all the difference in the world, with the Wizarding populace suddenly devouring news of them and finding a place in their hearts for good causes along the way. It might have seemed at odds with his Slytherin heritage, but the perfect culmination of events that all worked out to his advantage made it a comfortable arrangement...and in truth, when Draco attended the events and spoke for causes and saw the good work that people were doing, his compliments to them were quite genuine, and he had to admit that making a difference for people in so many seemingly small ways did make him happy. His father might only have seen the advantage of improved social standing, but Draco liked knowing that he'd altered the course of events for the better.

The music started up. It was time to go. He loved to be the center of attention, or at least half of it now that he had Harry alongside him...and there would be more than enough attention to go around today. Draco turned away from the mirror and opened the double doors to the garden, stepping out in perfect style.

 

_____ _____ _____ _____ _____ _____ _____ _____ _____ _____ _____ 

 

It had started in a pub. It had floundered in a kitchen and living room, come alive in museums and restaurants, dipped and crashed at a social event and in the offices of the Ministry, then fluttered back to life again stronger than before. It was cemented when they found themselves able to be close to another as adults, not afraid of roles or definitions that were meaningless, and it flourished brightest and most beautifully when they helped each other to achieve goals that meant more than drudgery and survival. They'd made memories of helping others and changing lives, sharing their lives with friends and family that grew as their lives inexorably intertwined.

Strangest of all, it was the children that had pushed things the last step further. They were the product of another time, with different rules and expectations. Jamie, Lily and Cissy had all sprung the question for them, at different times and in different places...wondering why their fathers weren't married when they ought to be. To them it seemed a normal enough question...just a matter of two grown people whose relationship deserved to be marked as proper and permanent. To their parents it was a different matter...unnerving and almost alien to consider. Times had changed. What 'just wasn't done' in their day was now done all the time, around the world, by consenting adults in love. When they spoke of it together, they'd had their doubts about what was appropriate or not...but when your own children conspire against you (or rather, for you) to imply that a wedding was the only way to show that you were serious about the other person in your life...what could you do?

In the end, Draco had been the formal one and proposed, with rings in hand for each of them, and simply asked Harry to marry him. Harry, having known it was coming from their discussions over the children's inquiries, had already long since thought it all out, looked at his life and where he expected it to go...and said yes with a smile. And thought brought them to here...in the Malfoy gardens, each marching in perfect time through a throng of hundreds until they reached the altar with their oddly appropriate mixture of groomsmen and maids. In front of the clicking and flashing cameras and hosts of relatives and friends and colleagues...they tied the knot once and for all. Part and parcel of a world that offered different possibilities than the one they'd been raised in.

It wasn't ending here, just as it hadn't ended during the other momentous events of their lives...it was only another beginning, but it had a firm foundation that suggested lasting togetherness and enduring affection. Where it would finally lead no one could say with certainty, but Harry and Draco began a new chapter in their lives in a fitting way, blazing the trail that others would follow, opening doors that had once been closed and opening minds and hearts in the process. All in all, not a bad legacy to share with an ever changing world, no?

FIN


End file.
